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THE COACHING
ERA

VIOLET A. WILSON

^'^^/i

JOHN A. SE AVERNS

Vetermary Library

Tufts University

School of Veterinary Medkme

200 Westboro Rd.

North Grafton. MA 01L^6

THE COACHING ERA

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

QUEEN ELIZABETH'S

MAIDS OF HONOUR

Illustrated

THE BODLEY HEAD

•^

THE COACHING ERA

BY VIOLET A. WILSON

WITH FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS FROM
OLD PICTURES AND PRINTS

NEW YORK

E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY

68i FIFTH AVENUE

MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BV MORRISON AND GIBB LTD., EDINBURGH

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

Early Coaches ......

PAGE
1

Stage-Coaches

III

Mail-Coaches .... . .

• 31

Coachmen ......

Guards .......

. 69

Coaching Competition ....

. . 85

VII

Coach Proprietors .....

. 104

VIII

Down the Road .....

. 114

"The Traveller's Oracle"

. 139

The Coach as News-Bearer

. 151

Highwaymen ......

. 162

XII

The Amateurs .....

. . 178

XIII

Accidents ......

196

XIV

Travellers' Experiences ....

. 210

Two Foreigners on Coaching .

227

XVI

The Coming of the Railway .

. 241

Index

. 2Ci:

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

In Co/our

An Early Stage-Coach ....
By J. C. IBBETSON (1792)

Mail-Coach going Downhill
By J. Pollard

Mail-Coach in a Snow-Drift
By J. Pollard

Stage-Coach and Opposition Coach in Sight
By J. Pollard

A Stage-Coach ......

By M. E.

The Norwich Coach .....

The Roadsters ......

By H. Alken

The Day before Christmas
In Black and White

The York Highflyer (Edinburgh and London)

The Oxford Coach

By F. Turner

The Abingdon Machine

Edinburgh and London M
Moonlight .
By J. Pollard

The Exeter Coach

By T. F. Herring

A Double-Bodied Coach
The Last of the Coaches

ail-Coach

passing Toll-Gate by

Frontispiece

FACING PAGE
38

94
132

170
192

234

20
54

1 12

156

202

222

250

NOTE

The thanks of the Publishers are due to Mr. A. E. Preston, Messrs. Leggatt
Bros, of St. James's Street ; Messrs. Arthur Ackermann of Bond Street ; and
Messrs. Bromhead 6^ CuTTS of Cork Street, for their kindness in lending the
valuable Pictures and Prints which bear their names in this Volume.

" GENTLEMEN— THE ROAD!

.'■•

THE

COACHING ERA

CHAPTER I EARLY COACHES

WHEN the Romans came to England, they
were not greatly impressed by our island or
its inhabitants, for Cicero wrote to a friend
that there appeared to be very little worth
taking away from Britain, except the chariots, of which
he wished his friend to bring him one as a pattern.

These chariots, which the Ancient Britons used in
battle, differed in certain respe6ls from those of Roman
construdlion: they were open in front instead of at the
back, whilst the pole went straight out between the
horses and was broad enough for the driver to walk
along; the wheels were high and had long scythes
fixed to the axle trees, so that when driven at full
speed through the ranks of the enemy they produced
a devastating effe6f.

The writers of old chronicles occasionally mentioned
the use of "whirlcotes," which were litters borne by
men or horses. In these women and sick persons
travelled; but it was not till the reign of Queen Eliza-
beth that regular coaches were first introduced into
England.

The sixteenth century then saw the establishment of
private coaches, the seventeenth of stage-coaches, the

2 THE COACHING ERA

eighteenth of mail-coaches, the nineteenth of railways,
and the twentieth of flying machines. Doubtless, next
century will evolve an even more progressive mode of
transport, causing our descendants to smile tolerantly
when they speak of the days when people were content
to travel at the leisurely rate of a mile a minute.

We can, however, console ourselves with the com-
forting refledlion that, if posterity will look down on us,
our present means of locomotion would command the
awe and respeft of our ancestors of a few generations
back. If they could be persuaded that we had not
sold ourselves to the devil, and were in consequence
profiting by his satanic majesty's own patent inventions,
they would certainly account us heroes, and marvel at
our temerity. In their days carriages with horses were
looked upon as novelties, and the back of the horse con-
sidered the orthodox means of transport; while those
who could only afford the humble conveyance of
Shank's mare had perforce to confine their peregrina-
tions within narrow limits.

If some one with a gift of prophecy, and a desire for
notoriety, had ventured to foretell the advent of motor-
cars, the good folk of the time would have remarked
plainly that he lied, for such things could not be. If
pressed to give a solid reason for this statement, they
would have pointed to the nearest high road, and asked,
if six, eight, and sometimes as many as fifteen horses
were requisite to pull coaches out of the mud in which
they so persistently stuck, how then would coaches with-
out horses at all fare?

EARLY COACHES 3

This was so eminently true that the prophet, having
no precedent for road engineers or the powers of steam,
would have been at a loss for an answer and, seeing the
apparent futility of his remark, have hastened to add
that he spoke by way of pleasantry, and that by horse-
less carriages he meant those drawn by oxen. If he was
anxious to enhance his reputation, he might even have
ventured to predidl live unicorns for draught pur-
poses, as those mystic animals were still thought to
exist, and the prophet would have obtained far more
credence than if he had adhered to his original state-
ment, that carriages would travel without the assistance
of any animal power at all.

The roads in England were at that time, and, indeed,
for long after, in such an appalling state that travelling
of any description was both difficult and dangerous, and
in winter well-nigh impossible. A narrow track in the
middle of the road represented the only firm surface,
whilst on either side were deep sloughs of mud, and
ruts eminently calculated to break the leg of man or
beast.

To those obliged to travel, the middle of the road was
the only place, and they started off with the firm deter-
mination never to leave it; the consequence was that
when two trains of pack-horses, or two waggons met,
the right of way was very fiercely contested. The rule
of the road being either unknown or wilfully dis-
regarded, the question as to who should step down into
the sea of mud was usually settled by a free fight among
the parties concerned. Travellers in the rear had "to

4 THE COACHING ERA

stand stock-still behind the standing cart or waggon,
on most beastly and insufferable deep wet ways, to the
great endangering of our horses, and the negleft of
important business: nor durst we adventure to stir (for
the most imminent danger of those deep ruts, and un-
reasonable ridges) till it has pleased mister carter to
jog on which we have taken very kindly."^

Such was the tenacity of the mud that, during the
Civil War, the Parliamentarians captured 800 horse,
not in battle, after a full fair fight, but "while sticking
in the mire." Dr. Burton opined that the reason Sussex
women, oxen and swine, were all long-legged arose
from the necessity of forcibly pulling their feet out of the
mud with every step they took. At a time when all the
roads in the kingdom were bad, those in Sussex had
the distinftion of being among the worst. One of the
courtiers who accompanied Queen Anne's husband,
Prince George of Denmark, on a visit to Petworth in
1703, has left a dismal account of the experiences which
befell their party:

"We set out at six o'clock in the morning to go for
Petworth, and did not get out of the coaches (save only
when we were overturned or stuck fast in the mire)
till we arrived at our journey's end. 'Twas hard service
for the Prince to sit fourteen hours in the coach that
day without eating anything, and passing through the
worst ways that ever I saw in my life: we were thrown
but once indeed in going, but both our coach which
was leading and His Highness's body coach, would have
suffered very often, if the nimble boors of Sussex had not

^ Thomas Mace's tradl on the State of the Roads, 1675.

EARLY COACHES 5

frequently poised it or supported it with their shoulders
from Godalming almost to Petworth; and the nearer we
approached to the Duke's house the more inaccessible
it seemed to be. The last nine miles of the way cost us
six hours time to conquer them, and indeed we had never
done it if our good master had not several times lent us
a pair of horses out of his own coach, whereby we were
enabled to trace out the way for him."

Horace Walpole wrote bitterly of the Sussex roads in
1749, and besought his friends, if they valued their lives
and constitutions, never to set foot in that appalling
county. The inhabitants were savages, the inns, horses,
postilions, and coaches all as bad as bad could be, and
the roads so execrable that anyone foolish enough to
imagine them meant for wheeled traffic would be
promptly disillusioned.

In the North things were little better, for Arthur
Young, the agriculturist, in his northern tour of 1770
exclaimed vehemently:

"I know not in the whole range of language terms
sufficiently expressive to describe this infernal road.
Let me most seriously caution all travellers to avoid
it as they would the devil, for a thousand to one they
break their necks or their limbs by overthrows or break-
ings down. They will meet with ruts which I actually
measured four feet deep and floating with mud, only
from a wet summer, what therefore must it be after a
winter?"

Even in the vicinity of London, matters, though
slightly better than in the provinces, were still nothing

6 THE COACHING ERA

to boast of, and, as late as 1736, Lord Hervey writing
from Kensington declared: "The road between this
place and London is grown so infamously bad that we
live here in the same solitude as we would do if cast on
a rock in the middle of the ocean; and all the Londoners
tell us that there is between them and us an impassable
gulf of mud."

The cross-country roads in the provinces were called
roads out of courtesy, for in point of fact they were
little more than rough tracks across country made by the
carriers with their strings of pack-horses. These pack-
horses, besides being the acknowledged conveyance for
merchandise and other heavy goods, also carried occa-
sional letters, packages, and sometimes travellers, from
one place to another.

Smollett, whose novel, Roderick Random, is largely
autobiographical, gives an account of such a journey:
"I determined therefore to set out with the carriers
who transplant goods from one place to another on
horseback; and this scheme I accordingly put into
execution, on the first day of November 1739, sitting
upon a pack-saddle between two blankets, one of which
contained my goods in a knapsack. But by the time
we arrived at Newcastle-on-Tyne, I was so fatigued
with the tediousness of the carriage, and benumbed with
the cold of the weather, that I resolved to travel the rest
of the journey on foot, rather than proceed in such a
disagreeable manner."

Walter Rippon made the first hollow turning coach
for Queen Elizabeth, but his invention did not advance

EARLY COACHES 7

him much in her favour, for she was so knocked about
in it during her first drive that she refused ever to use
it again. Elizabeth's next coach was intimately con-
nefted with what to her was a most important event,
for William Bonner brought it from Holland, and with
him came his wife, who introduced the art of clear
starching, by the aid of which the Queen's ruffs spread
out stiffly to a truly astonishing extent.

The early coaches, gorgeous with cloth of gold,
embeUished with wonderful carvings, adorned with
ostrich plumes, were outwardly everything that was
magnificent and regal, but agonizing to drive in. Being
utterly destitute of springs, they pitched and rolled in
an alarming manner over the rough roads, so that it is
no wonder that, when giving audience to the French
ambassador, Elizabeth complained that she was "suffer-
ing aching pains in consequence of having been knocked
about in a coach which had been driven a little too fast
only a few days before."^

Queen Elizabeth had, however, a very keen per-
ception of the state and pageantry due to royalty, and
on public occasions she used her coach despite its mani-
fold discomforts. At the public thanksgiving for the
defeat of the Spanish Armada, she proceeded in great
pomp to St. Paul's Cathedral, attended by an enormous
retinue on horseback. Elizabeth made a truly impressive
appearance in "a chariot throne made with foure
pillars behind to have a canopie, on the top whereof was
made a crowne imperial, and two lower pillars before
1 Ddpeches de La Mothe-F6nelon.

8 THE COACHING ERA

whereon stood a lyon and a dragon, supporters of the
arms of England."^

The great ladies who were present on this occasion,
or who got their husbands to give them a detailed de-
scription of the Queen's wonderful conveyance, never
rested till they had coaches of their own, though they
were perfectly aware that by their presumption in daring
to imitate they ran the risk of incurring her Majesty's
displeasure, and the Elizabethan temper was a thing to
be reckoned with. Be in the fashion they would, cost
what it might, and importuned their husbands till
at last obtaining their wish they "rode up and down the
country to the admiration of all beholders."

At first the Spartan gentlemen of the period looked
on all carriages with contempt, considering them only
fit for women and the aged, and: "In Sir Philip Sydney's
days, so famous for men at armes, 'twas then held a great
disgrace for a young gentleman to be seen riding in the
streets in a coach." Thomas Pennant, the antiquarian,
says: "The single gentlemen, then a hardy race, equipped
in Jack boots and trousers up to their middle, rode fast
through thick and thin, and guarded against the mire,
defying the frequent stumble and fall, arose and pursued
their journey with alacrity." This attitude died out in
the next generation, and early in the seventeenth cen-
tury a coach was essentially part of a fashionable man's
equipment. In 1619 the Duke of Buckingham, so
beloved at Court and abhorred of the public, desiring
to make a grand display, caused six horses to be har-
1 Nichols's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth.

EARLY COACHES 9

nessed to his private coach; a piece of arrogance that so
enraged the haughty old Earl of Northumberland that
he determined to surpass it, and promptly appeared
with a coach and eight, "and drove through the city of
London to Bath, to the vulgar talk and admiration."

Considering the state of the Bath Road at that time,
the eight horses, no doubt, had all they could do to pull
the heavy coach through the quagmires that encom-
passed it. Noble and intrepid pioneers suffered for their
pride, when their coaches stuck fast or were over-
turned in tjie mud, and highwaymen, never renowned
as respecSlers of persons, relieved them of their valuables
on lonely heaths, whither they had wandered and lost
their way. Except being upset, nothing was so easy for
these early travellers as to lose their way; indeed, in
consequence of the absence of signposts, and the
difficulty of telling roads from cart tracks, they were
likely to arrive at an entirely different destination from
the one they set out for.

After the Restoration, private carriages are often
mentioned in the news letters of the time, chiefly on
account of the accidents which so very frequently befell
them. Thus in 1679:

"We hear that the Duke of Monmouth lately passing
over the ferry at Windsor with his coach and six horses,
two of the horses in the passage leapt over the boat into
the water, and endangered the drawing of the coach
after them, had not one of the servants cut the traces,
and let them go, thereby preventing any further mischief
which might have happened."

10 THE COACHING ERA

Pepys, in his diary, recounts how he saw the King's
coach overturned:

"To Whitehall, from whence the King and the Duke
of York went by three in the morning, and had the
misfortune to be overset with the Duke of York, and
the Prince (Rupert) at the Kingsgate in Holborne, and
the King all dirty, but no hurt. How it came to pass
I know not, but only it was dark, and the torches did
not, they say, light the coaches as they should."

In 1634 Captain Butler, a retired mariner of a specu-
lative turn of mind, built four hackney-coaches which
he stationed for public hire at the Maypole in the
Strand. This venture met with instant success, and
Captain Bailey's liveried drivers were in great request
so that other drivers, quick to follow, took up their
station at the coach rank or drove slowly about in search
of fares.

These first hackney-coaches were imitations of the
private coaches of the period, and the coachman's
position was most unenviable, for, as the idea of a coach-
box had not yet occurred, the driver was accommodated
on a bar placed very low behind the horses. "The
coachman rides behind the horses' tails, lasheth them,
and looketh not behind him," wrote Stow, who was of
the opinion that no carts shod with iron should be al-
lowed within the city "unless for the service of princes";
even then the foremost horse should be led by hand to
minimize danger.

This sudden influx of public vehicles was not regarded
at all favourably at Court, which very justly considered

EARLY COACHES ii

that, if anyone could hire a coach, the pageantry of a
royal procession would be shorn of much impressiveness.
With the hope of putting a check on wheeled carriages,
Charles I endeavoured to persuade his subjects to use
sedan chairs, an innovation they regarded but coldly.
Annoyed that he could not make the populace see eye to
eye with him in this matter, the King issued a proclama-
tion forbidding anyone to engage a hackney-carriage
unless for the purpose of going at least three miles out
of town.

Business enterprise of any description necessarily
languished during the strenuous years of the Civil War,
but with the Restoration hackney-coaches increased
and multiplied, though Charles II, who loved them little
more than his father had done, did his unsuccessful best
to put them down.

Pepys in his diary for November 1669 notes :
*' Notwithstanding that this was the first day of the
King's proclamation against hackney-coaches coming
into the streets to stand for hire, yet I got one to carry
me home."

That the narrow streets of old London were over-
crowded it is easy to believe, for at one time there were
more than 2000^ of these hackney-coaches. Neither
were the drivers any too considerate for the public
safety, according to a curious old tradf entitled "Coach

^ In April 1633 the poor widows of hackney-coachmen peti-
tioned for some relief, as the Parliament had reduced the number
of coaches to 400 : there were before in and about London more
than 2000. T. Rugges, Diurnal.

12 THE COACHING ERA

and Sedan," which requests the drivers to "Leave in
any case that ill habit ye have of running over people in
a dark night, and then bid them stand up!"

Pedestrians of those days, either by custom or the
toughness of their constitutions, seem to have become
used to such misadventures, for Pepys recounts how he
saw a coach run over a man's neck, but who got up
seeming none the worse for the experience.

The coaching era had undoubtedly begun and the
alarmists of the period rushed into print on the subjedl.
Their fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers,
to go no further back, had been content to exist without
such luxuries, but considered the back of a horse the
right place for a man of courage. Should the present
generation presume to question the wisdom of their
revered ancestors on this subjedl? It was presumption
even to suggest such a thing.

John Taylor, one of the Thames watermen^ who were
nearly ruined by the introdudion of coaches, launched
out very bitterly against them. Taylor, when he found
his trade was threatened, took to writing; his output
was prodigious, and though not of high Hterary merit,
materially helps later generations to reconstru6l the
times in which he lived. He was so bitten with poetry
that he would never write in prose if he could help it,
and an added grievance against the coach was that so
few words would rhyme with it. Encroach did, however,

1 Before the introdudion of coaches the river had been the
chief highway of the city. "Up and by water to Whitehall" is a
constantly recurring phrase in the early part of Pepys' s Diary.

EARLY COACHES 13

and Taylor made the most of it, saying "the word en-
croach, I think, that best befits it, for I think there never
was such an impudent, proud, saucie intruder came into
the world as a coach is."

He then went on to impute every imaginable evil to
the pernicious influence of the coach, "for it had driven
many honest families out of their houses, many knights to
beggars, corporations to poverty, almsdeeds to mis-
deedes, hospitality to extortion, plenty to famine,
humility to pride, compassion to oppression, and all
earthly goodness almost to utter confusion."

Taylor was of the opinion that anything on wheels
was put to an improper use when carrying live things;
he grudgingly admitted that they might be useful for
conveying stone, timber, corn, wine and other merchan-
dise, for "they are dead and cannot go on foot, so must
be carried." For any person possessing a full comple-
ment of legs, to travel in a coach was a disgrace un-
speakable, and Taylor's eyes, in consequence, must have
been offended a hundred times a day, for in spite of
all he could say the popularity of coaches increased.

Coachmen, too, came in for a large measure of his
hatred and he contrasted them unfavourably with
carmen, in so much that they had the awful presumption
to ride, whilst the carmen walked on foot, and, according
to Taylor, if his horses were afflicted with a fit of melan-
choly— which, considering the state of the roads and
constru6lion of the waggons, cannot have been very
infrequent — he would "whistle him into a fit of mirth."

In the provinces, travelling was still primitive, and the

14 THE COACHING ERA

first inception of a public conveyance can be traced back
to carriers' vans which moved slowly from place to place
carrying merchandise, and giving occasional lifts to
peasants by the way. From this beginning came the
great cumbersome waggons which gradually began to
travel to and from the country districts and London.
These huge wains, with tyres a foot or more in breadth,
usually travelled in companies, for support in case of
robbery, and assistance when they stuck fast in the mud,
as they did two or three times a day. Little provision
was made for the passengers, who shared the interior
with bulky merchandise, and bumped and jolted against
each other, as the waggon groaned and creaked on its
way at the rate of a couple of miles an hour.

The waggoner either walked or rode beside his team,
which was rarely, if ever, changed during the journey,
so that it is little wonder the pace was slow, andt hat,
however ill-assorted, the unfortunate travellers had to
put up with close companionship for five or six days at
a time. These waggons usually travelled only by day
and stopped the night at some inn where the passengers
were provided with supper at sixpence a head, and
accommodated for the night in a large room or loft.

Monsieur Soulbriere, a Frenchman who came to
England in the reign of Charles H, says: "I went from
Dover to London in a waggon. It was drawn by six
horses placed one after another, and driven by a waggoner
who walked by the side of them. He was clothed in
black, and affronted in all things like another St. George.
He had a brave monteror on his head, and was a merry

EARLY COACHES 15

fellow, fancied he made a figure, and seemed mightily
pleased with himself."

These stage waggons, although humble conveyances
and looked on with contempt by their later rivals, the
coaches, yet continued stolidly on their way and, from
the nature of their patrons, suffered so little from
competition that they outlasted their more showy rivals
by many years. Even now, when stage-coaches have
long ceased to be, the carriers' vans which ply to and
from the country towns to remote hamlets can lay claim
to being a diredl survival of the oldest form of public
conveyance.

CHAPTER II STAGE-COACHES

FROM hackney-coaches and stage - waggons,
stage - coaches were a natural transition, and
though it is impossible to assign the exadt date
of their introdudlion it was probably about the
year 1640. A play called The Committee though
first acted in 1665, portrays the customs and habits of
the reign of Charles I, and in the opening scene the
coachmen and passengers of the Reading stage-coach
enter. The coachman receives his tip "a groat of more
than ordinary thinness," as he scathingly terms it, and a
lady, anxious to impress the rest of the company, laments
that her own coach is out of repair, declaring her hus-
band would be furious if he knew she rode in a public
coach.

The first authentic reference comes from a most
unlikely quarter — from John Taylor. Apparently he had
overcome his bitter hatred of hackney-coaches — which
he used to refer to as "hell carts" — for in 1548 he
managed to write of a stage-coach without one abusive
adjeftive:

"Myself in proper person took this journey;

Two gentlewomen (by two maids attended)

Accompanied me till my travels ended,

We took one coach, two coachmen, and foure horses,

And merrily from London made our courses.

We wheel'd the top of th' heavy hill called Holborne

(Up which hath full many a sinful soul borne)

And so along we jolted past St. Gileses,

Which place from Brainford six (or neare) seven miles is.

STAGE-COACHES 17

To Stanes at night at five o'clock we coasted,
Where, at the Bush we had bak'd, boil'd and roasted.
Bright Sol's illustrious Rayes the day adorning,
We past Bagshot and Bawbaw Friday morning.
That night we lodged at the White Hart at Alton,
And had good meate — a table with a salt on.
Next morn we arose with blushing cheeked Aurora;
The wayes were fair, but not so fair as Flora,
For Flora was a goddesse, and a woman,
And (like the highways) to all men was common.
Our horses with the coach, which we went into
Did hurry us amaine, through thick and thin too;
With fiery speed, the foaming bit they champt on.
And brought us to the Dolphin at Southampton."

This, then, is the earliest account of a stage-coach
journey, and, really, if the writer had been anyone
but a Thames waterman, it would almost seem as if he
had enjoyed the experience. Notwithstanding the fiery
speed at which they travelled, it took them three days
to go from London to Southampton, though they
started each morning at an unconscionably early hour.

If Taylor had overcome his hatred of coaches, his
place as public alarmist was as adequately filled by one
John Cressel, who in 1673, when there were but six stage-
coaches in the land, wrote a pamphlet calling for their
suppression.

The indi6lments which he arrayed against them now
constitute the strongest arguments in their favour, and
we realize what an immense boon the introdu6fion of
stage-coaches was to the nation at large. According to
him, the nation was fast sinking into such a state of

i8 THE COACHING ERA

effeminate degeneracy that after riding a few times in
coaches men became unwilHng to perform long journeys
on horseback. They were no longer "able to endure
frost, snow or rain, or to lodge in the fields"^ as had afore
time been their pleasing portion when benighted by the
way. All this, too, that they might "save their fine
clothes and keep themselves clean and dry."

Nor was this all. "For the passage to London being
so easy, gentlemen came to London oftener than they
need, and their ladies either with them or, having the
convenience of the coaches, quickly follow them. And,
when they are there, they must be in the mode, having all
the new fashions, buy all their clothes there, and go to
plays, balls and treats, where they get such a habit of
jollity and love of gaiety and pleasure, that nothing will
afterwards serve them, if ever they should fix their
minds to live there again; but they must have all from
London whatever it costs."

What was John Cressel's special grievance against
coaches can only be surmised; he may have been victim-
ized by country cousins, who, greatly undesired, came up
in relays by the six stage-coaches to visit him; at any
rate he expended all his eloquence in trying to prove
how much better it would be for people living in the
provinces to stop there. In case his scathing insinuations
as to their manhood should not have the desired effe6l, he
pretended an affe6lionate solicitude for their health,
and endeavoured to point out the manifold dangers they

1 "The Grand Concern of England Explained." Harleian
Miscellany, Vol. VIII.

STAGE-COACHES 19

subjedled themselves to by using a stage-coach. It was
neither advantageous for men's health nor business,
"to be laid fast in foul ways, and to be forced to wade
up to the knee in mire; afterwards to sit in the cold till
teams of horses can be sent to pull the coach out! Is it
for the health to travel in rotten coaches, and to have the
tackle or pearch, or axletree broken, and then to wait
three or four hours, sometimes half a day to have them
mended?"

"To be called out of bed into coaches an hour before
day, and to be hurried about in coaches till two or three
hours within night. Stifled with heat and choked with
dust in summer. Starving or freezing with cold in
winter, or choked with filthy fogs. Often brought to
inns by torch light when it is too late to sit up and get
supper, and next morning forced into the coach so early
they can get no breakfast." The exceeding discomfort of
these statements rather detradls from the luxury of
coaching which was Cressel's theme at the beginning of
his pamphlet.

Chamberlayne, in his Present State of Great Britain,
published in 1673, expressed very different sentiments:
"There is of late such an admirable commodiousness
for both men and women in the country, that the like
hath not been known in all the world, and that is by
stage-coaches wherein anyone may be transported to any
place, sheltered from foul weather, foul ways, free from
endamaging one's health and one's body by hard jogging
or over violent motion."

The first coach between Oxford and London took two

20 THE COACHING ERA

days to do the journey, but in 1669 bills were posted
about the city to inform prospe6tive travellers of a rival
coach.

"These are to give notice that every day in the week
there will be a coach set out at six o'clock in the morning
from Thomas Moor's house over against All Souls Col-
lege in Oxford which shall commodiously perform the
whole journey to London in one day, and from the
Saracens Head on Snow Hill London to Oxford again
the next day, and so constantly for this summer half year.
If God Permit."

The Vice-Chancellor ruled Oxford despotically in
those days, so great was his indignation when another
coach was put on the road without his express permis-
sion, and he instantly issued a proclamation which
was stuck up in every corner of the town.

"These are to give notice that whereas Thomas Dye
and John Fossett have, without licence from me, and in
contempt of the Chancellor, masters and scholars of the
University (to whom the ordering and giving of all
carriers of what kind soever, trading to or with the
University and city of Oxford doth of right belong)
presumed to set up a flying coach to travail from hence
to London. These are to require all scholars, priviledged
persons and members of the University, not to travail
in the said coach set up by Thomas Dye and John
Fossett, not to send letters or any goods whatsoever by
the aforesaid flying coach." P. Mews, Vice-Chancellor.

That the early stage-coaches were about as uncom-
fortable as they could well be, we have proof in a letter

y. -^

|Ldl

■

^jT'^^^^H

- ^

STAGE-COACHES 21

written by a traveller named Edward Parker in 1663,
which recounts his harrowing expeiiences, and his
determination never to go in a coach again if he can
help it:

"Honoured Father,

"M7 dutie promised etc. I got to London on
Saturday last, my journie was noe ways pleasant, being
forced to ride in the boote all the waye, ye company up
with mee were persons of great quality, as knights and
ladyes. My journeys expense was 30s. This travail hath
soe indisposed mee, that I am resolved never to ride up
again in ye coatch. I am extremely hott and feverish,
what this may tend to I know not. I have not yet advised
with any doctor."^

It is probable that Edward Parker's sufferings were by
no means unique, and that after one experience of the
manifold discomforts of the stage-coach men preferred
to return once more to the use of their saddle-horses.
There was also the motive of economy in this method of
progression, for horses purchased cheaply in the pro-
vinces could be sold at a profit when the rider reached
London, an advantage which the canny Scots in partic-
ular are said to have keenly appreciated.

The earliest stage-coaches were fearful and wonderful
to behold, for they were the last word in heaviness and
clumsiness. The body was built to carry six or eight
persons, who, though they had every reason to be thank-
ful in that they had a roof over their heads, had to put
up with leather shutters in lieu of windows, for it was

^ Archeslogiaj XX.

22 THE COACHING ERA

not till 1680 that glass was used for that purpose. The
coachman's lot was an unenviable one, for he sat on a
bar between the two standard posts from which the
coach was hung, with his feet on a board fixed to the
top of the porch. Behind the coach was the "Basket," a
huge wicker-work strudlure, originally intended for the
carriage of luggage, and amongst which the outside
passengers sat in exquisite discomfort.

As was only to be expelled, these unwieldy vehicles
frequently overset, and Ralph Thoresby, the antiquary,
who travelled much on horseback, but took coach
occasionally, always did so with the liveliest apprehen-
sion and, as five coaches were overturned in one day, he
had definite grounds for alarm. That even the early
coaches were popular on the road we gather from a brief
notice he gives of one of them in connexion with the
annual May Day festivities:

"We dined at Grantham; had the usual solemnity
(this being the first time the coach passed the road in
May) of the coachmen and horses being decked with
ribbons and flowers, the town music, and young people
in couples before us."

By the end of the century coaching had become a
national institution, and in a 1680 newspaper a house
advertised to let at Eltham in Kent holds out the
inducement, "there going a stage-coach thither every
day." Hatfield Parsonage too — "In which house persons
of quality and reputation have lived" — claimed that
"both coaches and waggons go every other day." In

STAGE-COACHES 23

June 1668 Pepys says: "All the five coaches that come
this day from Bath, as well as we, were gone out of the
town before six."

Improvement in construction and pace of the early-
coaches was slow, three or four miles an hour being the
recognized rate of progress, and owing to the state of the
roads "it happened almost every day that coaches stuck
fast, until a team of cattle could be procured from some
neighbouring farm, to tug them out of the slough." ^
Passengers to lighten the draught were often obliged to
walk for miles together, and in 1689 a Dutchman died in
the Oxford stage-coach from his exertion in walking up
Shotover Hill. People in a hurry would refuse the offer
of a lift in a coach with the very reasonable excuse that
they had no time to waste, whilst pedlars and packmen
would often keep pace alongside the coach displaying
their wares.

In the year 1700 it took a week to get from London
to York; whilst Exeter was five days' journey, and Salis-
bury two. Some idea of the leisurely pace at which the
old stage-coaches used to travel before the age of com-
petition began may be gathered from the faft related by
one traveller that, when the Exeter coach stopped at
Axminster for breakfast, "a woman barber shaved the
coach." Another time, a coachman and guard having a
difference of opinion, the coach halted and the passengers
watched them fight it out on the road.

The Edinburgh coach, which took ten days in summer
and twelve in winter to get to London, made an an-

^ Macaulay.

24 THE COACHING ERA

nouncement in 1754 that, for the better accommodation
of its passengers, it would in future be hung on steel
springs. At about the same time Manchester made a
bold bid for popularity by claiming that, "However in-
credible it may appear, this coach will actually arrive in
London in four days and a half after leaving Manchester."
So great did they consider this acceleration of speed
that, with inflated pride, they advertised the venture
as a "Flying Coach."

Other proprietors, not willing to be behind the times,
proceeded to increase their speed to five miles an
hour, and in consequence dubbed their coaches flying-
coaches, or even flying-machines, the newspapers
containing such announcements as "The Gloucester
flying-machine on steel springs, begins flying next
Monday for the summer season." Charles Matthews the
actor, after a tedious journey in one of these conveyances,
ironically remarked: "I suppose they are called flying-
coaches, because they are the slowest things that ever
crawled."

Though the proprietors were ready enough to promise
amazing things in the matter of speed, they entertained
grave doubts as to their ability to perform them, and
that in such cases they might not be held solely respon-
sible they added a proviso "if God permits," or "if roads
are good."

The flying-coaches were essentially fair weather
vehicles, and at the end of the summer they issued
notices of the following description: "The Proprietors
of the Stroud coach beg leave to inform their friends

STAGE-COACHES 25

and the public in general, that the coach left off flying on
Saturday the 14th of Oftober instant."

With the spring they once more took the roadj and on
May 20th, 1682, the City Mercury contained the fol-
lowing announcement:

"The coach that went last year to Epsom every
morning from the George in the Stocks Market and
vidfualling house, will begin on Thursday the first of
June, and goes to Mr. Tonsers, a barber, next door to the
new King's Head in Epsom, and returns the same day."

The few that had the temerity to keep the road
through the winter had many difficulties to contend
with, for, putting aside the heavy snow-storms which
obliged them to lie up for days together, they were in
constant danger from floods, and there were many
instances of coaches being overturned and passengers
drowned. A newspaper of the time thus brieiiy refers
to an appalling state of things in Yorkshire:

"There has been abundance of mischief done by the
late flood and rains, several coaches and horses, and
divers men and women in Yorkshire having lately been
lost thereby, with waggons and cattle of all sorts, and it
is said that two post-boys are drowned also."

Considering the dangers and difficulties that beset
travellers in those days, a journey by coach occasioned
much thought and anxiety. The passengers, no doubt,
hoped most fervently that the coach would not be
upset, or robbed by highwaymen, and that the coachman
was not in league with the innkeepers to defraud them.

26 THE COACHING ERA

As these things happened every day, they had but little
hope of escaping all of them, and had every reason to be
thankful if they arrived at their destination within two
or three days of the time so glibly promised by the
proprietors, without broken limbs, and with little money
left in their pockets.

They set out armed with fire-arms, and no doubt
with a grim determination to use them on the person of
the first highwayman who appeared at the coach door
with an impolite request for the travellers' purses and
valuables. As a matter of faft, they very rarely made use
of their weapons, but meekly parted with their goods.

There were occasional exceptions to this amiable
compliance with unjust demands, for when the Leeds
coach was attacked in 1769 the Oxford Journal tells how
a bold and intrepid passenger drew out his blunderbuss
and fired at the robber. Whether the highwayman was
wounded or merely astounded at meeting with resist-
ance is uncertain, but at any rate he hurriedly dis-
mounted and took to his heels. The passengers, still
rather dazed at the utterly unexpe61:ed turn of events,
got out of the coach and sought wildly for the highway-
man in the darkness. Being unable to see, but deter-
mined to have a captive highwayman as proof positive
of their doughty deed, they seized one of their com-
panions and, paying not the slightest heed to his struggles,
bound him securely, and consigned him ignominiously to
the Basket. They then resumed their places, and talked
vaingloriously, and thought deliciously of the reward
that was paid for the capture of a highwayman. At

STAGE-COACHES 27

the next stage, however, their pleasant dreams were
rudely dispelled, for the inconsiderate passenger in
the Basket protested that he was no highwayman and,
being able to prove incontestably that this was indeed
so, they were relu6lantly obliged to release him.

The coachmen of those days regarded the highway-
man with no unfriendly eye, and were suspe6led of
being occasionally in league with him. That they made
good bargains with the innkeepers is beyond doubt,
and the coach passengers dined, slept, breakfasted and
consumed frequent draughts of ale not by any means at
the best inns, but at those the coachmen arbitrarily
decreed that they should patronize, and where they were
often overcharged and ill-catered for. The coachman
being a person of much authority on the road, his vi6lims
grumbled but submitted, fearing worse to come, like the
coach passengers in "The Beaux Stratagem":

Landlord: "The Company of the Warrington coach
has stood in the hall this hour, and nobody
to show them to their chambers . . . they
threaten to go to another inn."

Cherry: "That they dare not, for fear the coachman
should overturn them to-morrow."

Once, being stirred up to revolt by a companion of
more than ordinary braveness, the passengers marched
boldly out of the tavern sele£led for them, and walked
along the road till they came to one which took their
fancy better. The coachman, furious at this flagrant
rebellion, determined to give them a lesson, mounted his
box and drove past the house where they were refreshing

28 THE COACHING ERA

themselves. He ignored the inn and his mutinous pas-
sengers, who strove frantically to attraft his attention,
and departed leaving them to continue their journey
as best they could. They did get back to London some-
how, and eventually brought an action against him at the
King's Bench when they were awarded ^20 damages.

Undoubtedly, early coach travelling had many draw-
backs, not the least among them being the extreme
easiness with which the coach upset, an instance of which
is exemplified by an entry in John Wesley's diary 1775.
"Before nine, a gentleman in a single horse chaise struck
his wheel against one of ours. Instantly the weight at
the top overset the coach; otherwise ten times the shock
would not have moved it; but neither the coachman nor
the men on the top, nor any within, were hurt at all."

The idea of utilizing the roof as a place of transit
undoubtedly originated in some one to whom travel was
imperative on an occasion when both the inside of the
coach and the Basket were fully occupied. What one
adventurous spirit could do others were ready to imitate,
and the roof of the coach became a recognized place for
soldiers, sailors and others hardened to danger, who
wished to ride cheaply. At first no provision was made
for their safety, but somewhat later proprietors provided
handles, or occasionally a rail round the roof of the
coach to give them some slight feeling of security.

The relative positions of the passengers were gauged
to a nicety by the coachman's formula when hills were
steep or roads more than usually bad: "First Class
passengers (inside) keep your seats; Second Class passen-

STAGE-COACHES 29

gers (in the Basket) get out and walk; Third Class
passengers (on the roof) get down and push behind."

In the reign of George III, coaching, though still to
be avoided if possible, was a great improvement on what
had gone before. The coaches themselves had altered
somewhat in construction, the front and hind boots
began to be framed to the body of the coach, and seats
were placed on the roof. The driver's seat was raised
higher, but still unprovided with springs and, as Wilkins
of the Balloon told Frank Raby, "There is a great deal
of h'art in sitting on a coach-box."^ This is confirmed
by the Oxford Journal for 1779, which reports an acci-
dent to the Bristol Mail, caused by the coachman being
"shooke off the box."

The rate of speed was nominally increased to six miles
an hour for fast coaches, but the coachmen considered
themselves in no wise tied down to a fixed time and,
though a coach might be due at a definite hour, the
coachman questioned on the subje6l would reply easily
that he had been every hour of the twenty-four after it.
He was particularly obliging with regard to meals, and
allowed his passengers to take their time over them, so
that though an hour was the time specified for dinner it
not infrequently lengthened into two, the coachman
being generally ready to help drink another bottle of
wine, remarking comfortably of the coach, "she could
wait she could."

A man who tipped liberally in those days could
accomplish much: visit his friends who lived near the
^ Life of a Sportsman. Nimrod.

30 THE COACHING ERA

high road, or wait and explore any place of interest
through which the coach passed.

The roads, though still bad, had been considerably-
improved by the turnpike acts, and it slowly dawned on
coach proprietors that the speed of their coaches was
sensibly increased by changing horses occasionally, in-
stead of causing the same unfortunate animals to perform
the entire journey. The stages, however, were still
incredibly long, fifteen or twenty miles for one team
being considered by no means excessive.

CHAPTER III MAIL-COACHES

ASTE, post haste, haste with all diligence.
For thy life, for thy life," was the urgent
superscription on ofHcial letters in Tudor
times. This should have spurred the mes-
sengers on to great endeavours, but did not, for the
post-boys, either on foot or on horseback, lagged and
loitered throughout the whole course of their existence.
When George III was King the postal arrangements
of the country were about as bad as they could be, for
the mails were entrusted "to some idle boy, without
charadler, mounted on a worn-out hack.''^

"He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

With spattered boots, strapped waist and frozen locks,

News from all nations lumbering on his back.

True to his charge, the close packed load behind,

Yet careless what he brings, his one concern

Is to condu£l it to the destined inn.

And having dropped the expefted bag pass on.

He whistles as he goes, Hght hearted wretch

Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief

Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some."

Cowper, with true poetic licence, decidedly over-
estimated the trustworthiness of post-boys. Contem-
porary evidence shows they were by no means anxious
as to the security of the mail-bags, being in truth far
more concerned for the safety of their own skins. Indeed,

1 "A plan for the Reform and Improvement of the General
Post Office." J. Palmer.

32 THE COACHING ERA

from the obliging manner in which they instantly acceded
to the highwaymen's request for the mail to be handed
over to them, the post-boys were by no means unjustly
suspefted of being actively in league with them, having
come to an arrangement for their mutual benefit at the
expense of the long suffering British public. Finally,
finding that the plea of robbery was accepted as a
just and satisfactory excuse, they improved upon the
occasion and tampered with the mail-bags themselves.

Though their official rate of speed was only five miles
an hour, the post-boys rarely troubled themselves to
keep true time, but dawdled on the road, and imbibed
such frequent potations at the various inns that the
arrival of the mail was a matter for much speculation.

The post had, in facfl, attained the distindlion of
being the slowest and unsafest conveyance in the
country. People obliged to send money by it were so
distrustful of the existing arrangements that they cut
their bank bills in halves and sent them by different
routes.

Often rather than trust to the post at all, or if they
were anxious for a letter to travel expeditiously, they
made it up into a parcel and sent it by the stage-coach,
being willing to pay the extra carriage for the greater
security of the conveyance. "I write by the coach the
more speedily and effe6fually to prevent your coming
hither," wrote Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson in 1784.

The ordinary cost of a letter by post was 4d., if sent by
coach as a parcel 2s., or in cases of special urgency even
more, for it was the custom to write on such packages —

MAIL-COACHES 33

"An extra sum will be given to the porter if he deliver
this letter immediately."

Dickens refers to this custom in The Pickwick Pafers:

"Well," said Mr. Pickwick, "but I must send a letter
to London by some conveyance, so that it may be de-
livered the very first thing in the morning at all hazards."
The landlord smiled his delight. Nothing could be
easier than for the gentleman to enclose a letter in a
sheet of brown paper and send it on either by the mail
or night coach from Birmingham. If the gentleman
was particularly anxious to have it left as soon as pos-
sible he might write outside "To be delivered im-
mediately" which was sure to be attended to, or "P/2y
the hearer half a crown extra for immediate delivery''' was
surer still.

This circumstance eventually gave rise to the intro-
duftion of mail-coaches, whose inception was due to
the inventive genius of one man, and a man, moreover,
who had nothing whatever to do with postal affairs.
This was Mr. John Palmer, the manager of the Bath and
Bristol theatres, whose business suffered great incon-
venience from the inadequate postal arrangements.
The stage-coaches between London and Bath did the
journey in one day, whereas a letter took three. Mr.
Palmer, like many of his fellow-townsmen, sent import-
ant letters under the guise of parcels, and it occurred
to him that it would be a very great improvement if,
in place of the post-boys, stage-coaches with certain
modifications were made the official carriers of His
Majesty's Mails.

The idea was undoubtedly good, and Palmer drew up
3

34 THE COACHING ERA

a carefully thought-out scheme entitled, "A Plan for the
Reform and Improvement of the General Post Office,"
which he presented to Pitt, then Chancellor of the
Exchequer.

Pitt saw at once the prafticability of the idea and,
charmed with the prospedl of considerable increased
revenue it held out, did all he could to further its
adoption. Like most sweeping reforms which embody
the substitution of new for old, the scheme for the
mails caused men to hold up their hands in horror and
dismay. They declared if desperate men had set their
hearts on having the mail-bag have it they would and,
seeing that they were thoroughly determined on the
matter, resistance was useless, and it was much better to
give in without unnecessary fuss, as witness the post-
boys. Whereas if the guard was armed, "resistance would
lead to murder," at the very mention of which the
sensitive Post Office shuddered. Mr. Palmer's observa-
tions as to the time in which the stage-coaches would
convey the mails were regarded as fantastic and wild,
it being impossible "that the Bath Mail could be brought
to London in sixteen or eighteen hours."

It was indeed fortunate for John Palmer that he had
such a strong partisan in Pitt, who determined that at
all events the plan should have a fair trial. In 1784 the
Post Office very sorely against its will, issued this notice:

"His Majesty's post masters general, being inclined
to make an experiment for the more expeditious convey-
ance of mails of letters by stage-coaches, machines etc.
have been pleased to order that a trial should be made

MAIL-COACHES 35

upon the road between London and Bristol, to com-
mence at each place on Monday the 2nd."

The first trial was watched with anxiety by Pitt and
Palmer, eager for its success, and by the Post Office,
praying for its utter and humiliating annihilation. In
this generous hope they were disappointed, for the under-
taking prospered instantly. It is generally supposed that
no records exist giving particulars of this first mail-
coach, but the following notices appeared in the Oxford
Journal during August 1784:

"The new mail diligence set off from Bristol on Mon-
day last for the first time at four o'clock, and from the
Three Tuns in this city (Bath) at twenty minutes after
five the same evening. From London it set out at eight
on Monday evening and was in Bath the next morning.
The excellent steps taken to carry out this undertaking
leave not the least room to doubt of its succeeding to
the great pleasure and advantage of the public."

A week later was recorded the complete success of the
venture which had fulfilled the most sanguine hopes
entertained of it:

"The new mail-coach has travelled with an expedi-
tion that has been really astonishing, having seldom
exceeded thirteen hours in going or returning from
London. It is made very light, carries four passengers
and runs with a pair of horses, which are changed every
six or eight miles; and as the bags at the different
offices on the road are made up against its arrival there
is not the least delay. The guard rides with the coach-
man on the box, and the mail is deposited in the Boot,"

36 THE COACHING ERA

Mr. Palmer was appointed Controller General of the
Post Office in 1786, and eventually granted a commis-
sion of 2| per cent upon any excess of net revenue
over the sum at which the annual proceeds of the Post
Office stood at the date of appointment. Eventually he
received a pension of ^3000.

The new Controller was an admirer of the stage-
coaches, but in no way blind to their defeats, and he
installed so many improvements that coaching was
completely revolutionized. Palmer was a martinet for
punftuality; stage-coaches were not, and they had to
alter their ways very considerably if they wished for the
privilege of carrying His Majesty's Mails. The mail-
coaches were timed to a minute at the different stages,
fresh horses, warned by the blast of the guard's horn,
stood ready waiting, and with lightning rapidity were
put to the coach. Dinners had to be despatched in the
brief period of twenty minutes, whilst the coach started
prompt to time, and coachmen could no longer be
cajoled into granting an extra hour; passengers who
loitered on a mail-coach were simply left behind.

The stages were shortened and rarely exceeded eight
miles, and better bred and highly fed horses employed,
by which means the pace of the coaches was very materi-
ally increased, and the official speed raised from eight
miles an hour to ten or even twelve. Time lost on one
stage had to be made up on the next, and at places where
the coach changed drivers unpun6f uality was a sin hard to
forgive. "They ex-p-p-p-p-ped: me to k-k-k-k-k-keep
t-t-t-t-t-t-time up, but d-d-d-d-d-devil a b-b-b-b-bit

MAIL-COACHES 37

do they bring any t-t-t-t-t-time down," spluttered a
coachman of the middle ground, rendered almost
incoherent by rage and natural impediment.

The first mail-coaches, or rather stage-coaches under
another name, were clumsily and badly constructed, so
that the accelerated pace brought forth a proportionate
number of accidents, and people began to eye them
askance, and to show a growing disinclination to travel
by them. The indefatigable Mr. Palmer saw this and
remedied it by issuing an order that in future all the
mail-coaches should be of one pattern and of most up-to-
date construction.

These new coaches were much lighter than the old-
fashioned stages and designed to carry four inside in-
stead of six. Outside travelling was recognized, but, the
chief objedls of the Post Office being to keep the guard
in splendid isolation, they at first allowed only one
outside passenger, on the coach-box and, though sub-
sequently seats were placed on the roof, none were
allowed at the back of the coach near the guard. The
idea was that a highwayman with a keen eye to possi-
bilities might engage the seat to the subsequent undoing
of the guard and mail-bags, and it was not till the coach-
ing era was drawing to a close that this regulation was
altered.

The speed and punduality of the coaches increased
rapidly and, coincident with their improvements, the
proprietors ceased to announce bombastically that they
would fly, and contented themselves with modestly
announcing that they would run; they might in many

38 THE COACHING ERA

instances without unwarrantable licence have announced
that they would gallop.

The Edinburgh mail did its 400 miles in forty hours,
and the other mails with proportionate despatch. The
public looked on and were staggered. It was the awful
velocity that alarmed them, and Lord Campbell says:
"This swift travelling was considered dangerous as well
as wonderful and I was gravely advised to stay a day at
York, as several passengers who had gone through
without stopping died of apoplexy from the rapidity of
the motion."

This increased rate of travelling was very largely due
to the great improvement which took place in the roads
under the Post Office supervision, for without the genius
of Mac-Adam, coaching could never have attained to
the perfedlion it did.

The stage-coaches paid heavy tolls, but the mails were
exempt from this; a circumstance which made stage-
coach proprietors eager for the privilege of carrying the
mails, and caused those who had money invested in turn-
pike securities to complain most bitterly.

"The most second-sighted of your house could never
have forseen that the usage of the single horse and post-
boy afterwards in many places converted into the light
Mail-cart drawn by one horse, would be superseded by a
Royal carriage drawn by four horses, and filled by pas-
sengers, who before rode in the common stages, and
contributed to support the roads which they passed over,"
wrote Mr. Pennant in his " Letter to a Member of
Parliament on Mail-Coaches" (1792), calling attention

MAIL-COACHES 39

to the fact that the Post Office Insisted on the improve-
ment of the roads, yet they contributed nothing towards
their upkeep.

A toUkeeper was bound to have the gate open for the
mail to go through, if he negle6led to do so he was liable
to a fine of 40s. Should he attempt to delay its passage
in any way he could be fined ^5, whilst for a like offence
an innkeeper was deprived of his licence. An attempt
at robbery entailed the sentence of transportation for
life, and punishments in proportion were provided for
carriers, and other users of the road, who did not in-
stantly "give the road" to the mails.

In consequence of these stringent rules and regulations,
the mail-coaches were regarded with great veneration,
turnpikes flew open at the sound of the guard's horn,
innkeepers were deferential, drivers of other vehicles
hastened to efface themselves in the nearest ditch in
order that His Majesty's arrogant mails might keep to
the middle of the road. Indeed, a mail-coach lighted by
powerful lamps, thundering along at the rate of ten
miles an hour, was no inconsiderable thing to meet in a
narrow country road on a dark night.

So omnipotent were the Mails that William Hazlitt
declared that even "the brother-in-law of a mail-coach
driver is himself no mean man," whilst he regarded what
would have been insupportable discomforts on a stage-
coach, as quite bearable on a mail: "On the outside of
any other coach on the tenth of December, with a Scotch
mist drizzling through the cloudy moonlight air, I should
have been cold, comfortless, impatient, and no doubt wet

40 THE COACHING ERA

through; but seated on the Royal Mail, I felt warm and
comfortable, the air did me good, I was pleased with the
progress we made, and confident that all would go well
through the journey."

The departure of the mails became one of the sights
of London, and crowds of people assembled near the
General Post Office in Lombard Street every evening
at 8 o'clock when the mail-coaches drove up in double
file to receive their mail-bags.

This assemblage of mails was a sight to remember:
the handsome crimson coaches with the Royal Arms, the
sleek, well-groomed horses with their polished harness,
the spruce coachman, and the scarlet-coated guard,
who, when the coach had received its mails, blew a
cheering blast on his horn as a prelude to the journey.

The perfedion of coaches brought into existence two
things which had not entered into Palmer's calculations.
One was that with good roads and good horses the
sporting spirit was not to be controlled and, when rival
coaches were put on the road, race they would if they
broke every bone in their passengers' bodies, to say noth-
ing of the stringent rules ena6led against the pradlice
by those in authority; the second, that gentlemen sud-
denly discovered that there was most exquisite pleasure
to be obtained from driving four horses and, when
coaches were horsed at the proportion of one a mile,
nowhere could this pleasure be enjoyed so thoroughly as
on the public coaches.

Proprietors fumed, passengers protested shrilly and
indignantly, but to little purpose, for the would-be

MAIL-COACHES 41

drivers, by dint of liberal tips to the legitimate coachmen,
contrived to handle the ribbons of the most famous
coaches, to their own intense satisfa61:ion.

To one of the amateur drivers the professional coach-
men were deeply indebted, for to John Warde "the
father of fox-hunting," they owed the introduction of
springs beneath the driver's seat. Warde, who learnt to
tool a coach under the able tuition of Jack Bailey of The
Prince of Wales, found the coach-box — then utterly
innocent of springs and resting on the front axle — a
situation of the acutest discomfort which responded to
every jolt in the road.

He saw at once that this could easily be remedied by
placing the box on springs, and endeavoured to persuade
the proprietors of the coaches to make the alteration.
They, however, looked askance and unanimously con-
demned it. Clinging fast to the old maxim of no
change, they protested that as hundreds of coachmen
had driven all their lives on boxes without springs it
was patent that springs were not necessary. Another
argument advanced was that if the box did not jolt the
coachman violently and frequently he would go to sleep,
and then, they asked triumphantly, what would become
of the coach.

At length Mr. Warde persuaded the proprietors of the
Manchester Telegraph to give his invention a trial and,
from the fadl that this coach was the first to use them,
the springs were called "Telegraph" springs. When it
was seen that the Telegraph coachman did not go to sleep
at his post, and could in consequence of the greater

42 THE COACHING ERA

comfort drive with more ease, the springs quickly came
into general use, and the box-seat became in consequence
a coveted position, whereas aforetimes travellers would
have been only too thankful to pay extra to avoid it.

The mail-coaches appeared in great glory on the
anniversary of the Sovereign's birthday, when they
paraded many of the principal streets of London, and
provided an imposing spedlacle. No expense was spared
to make the occasion a memorable one, most of the
coaches being new, whilst those not used for the first
time came fresh from the workshop, where they had
undergone a thorough overhauling, and were as re-
splendent as fresh paint and varnish could make them.
Picked teams were used, and many country gentlemen
would send their horses to draw favourite coaches for
the ceremony. All the horses were groomed till their
coats shone like satin, and they stepped out seeming
proudly conscious of the important occasion, and of
their new silver plated harness, and gay rosettes.

The Post Ofhce provided the guards with new scarlet
coats and gold-laced beaver hats, while the contractors,
not to be outdone, furnished the coachmen with
equally resplendent livery, and both coachmen and
guards provided themselves with enormous nosegays.

No passengers were allowed outside the coaches, and
the interiors were filled with the friends of the coachmen
and guards. When the coaches left Millbank, the church
bells rang, guards blew their horns, and the procession,
headed by Bristol and oldest established Mail, started off.
The route taken varied, but a visit was always paid to

MAIL-COACHES 43

St. James's Palace, where the coachmen and guards stood
up and loyally saluted their Sovereign.

The last occasion on which the Mails thus formally
paraded was on May 17th, 1838, for even then the rail-
ways menaced their proud supremacy, and when the
next anniversary came round the very existence of the
coaches was threatened, and Londoners lost for ever a
majestic spedlacle which had been in existence for 36
years.

CHAPTER IV COACHMEN

A COACHMAN on his box was an autocrat
whose wish could not be disputed, and whose
sHghtest word on equine matters was law. His
sway on the road was absolute, and he and his
coach were familiar objefts, eagerly looked for day by
day, and the admired of all beholders. His acquaintances
were many, for though he might never exchange a word
with them from one year's end to another he had friends
in every village through which he passed. Pretty girls
ran to the windows to watch him go by, children waved
their caps and cried "Hurrah," shopkeepers hurried to
their doorways, whilst old men, whose life lay behind
them, watched expe6fantly for the coming of the
coach, and felt their sluggish blood leap at the exhilar-
ating sound of the guard's horn, and the merry rattle of
the bars as the coach dashed gaily by.

Villages where the coaches changed horses were
greatly to be envied, for the coachman would dismount
and condescend to take a glass of his favourite beverage
from the barmaid, whilst he kept a professional eye on
the fresh team, and delivered words of weighty wisdom
on the subjeft of bits and coupling reins to the atten-
dant ostlers who hung on his words and envied him
enormously.

Farmers' wives and daughters viewed him with great
respeft, as one to whom distance was naught, and whose
conne6fion with the city of London was constant and
intimate. Shopping in remote country distridls being

COACHMEN 45

primitive, it was owing to the kindly service of a passing
coachman that many of the country maids were enabled
to dazzle their friends, by appearing on festive occasions
in the latest bonnets and sprigged muslins, purchased
expressly for them in far-off London town.

The old coachmen were usually willing to undertake
any small commissions, such as the carrying of love
letters, the matching of silks, or even to act as go-
between in the weightier matters of farm produce.

As a reward for their services, the farmers' wives fed
them with dainties of their own making, for the coachmen
had great capacities for food, and drink. They were,
however, somewhat fastidious as to the offerings they
accepted from their admirers, and not above returning a
gift that did not meet with their approval, or come up
to their expeftations. Jack Adams, who drove the Royal
Defiance, a coach much patronized by Oxford under-
graduates, looked very contemptuous when a farm lad
came up one day to him at Dorchester, and presented a
bundle of fresh cut turnip tops as a gift from a neigh-
bouring farmer.

"Hump!" said Jack, eyeing them unfavourably. "Is
that all your master sent?"

"Yes, sir," replied the boy. ,

Adams was of the opinion that a bunch of greens was
in no way worthy of his acceptance, so he bade the boy
take them back with the message: "Greens alone are of
no use to Mr. Adams unless he has something to eat with
them, such as a piece of home-cured bacon."

The farmer took the hint, and next day when the

46 THE COACHING ERA

coach changed horses at Dorchester, the country boy
in his smock-frock was waiting with two bundles of greens,
a splendid fowl, and a piece of home-cured bacon.

"Ah, that's more like it!" said Jack, giving the lad a
shilling. "Tell your master that Mr. Adams is very
much obliged to him."

The coachmen of those days were good trencher men.
This, combined with the fact that they took pra6lically
no exercise, contributed to their enormous bulk, which
indeed passed into a tradition, and Tom Hood aptly
hit off the popular conception of them in the ballad
beginning:

"John Day he was the biggest man
Of all the coachmen kind,
With back too broad to be conceived
By any narrow mind."

The love of good feeding once occasioned rather an
unpleasant experience to the coachman and guard on a
night coach called the Birmingham Old Fly; a heavy
old-fashioned vehicle carrying six inside and seven out.
The road it travelled was a lonely one and badly provided
with inns, so that between Shipston and Woodstock there
was no place where a good meal could be obtained.
Such a long fast could not be thought of, so the coach-
man arranged with a man who horsed one of the stages
to provide a hot supper for him and the guard every
night. The plan answered capitally, until one day, com-
ing down Long Compton hill, the near-side leader, a
five-year-old mare, slipped and fell, injuring herself so
badly that she had to be destroyed.

COACHMEN 47

The next night the coach halted at the accustomed
stopping-place, and the coachman and guard walked into
the stable, where as usual a cloth was laid on a corn-bin
which did duty as a table. The horse-keeper's wife
brought in a smoking hot dish to which they did ample
justice and finished to the last morsel. As the coachman
was mounting the box, the horse-keeper came up to him
and said:

"Well, gentlemen, how did you enjoy your supper?"

"Very much indeed," replied the coachman warmly,
"it was delicious."

"Ah," said the horse-keeper complacently, "I always
told the missus the young mare would eat well."

Words failed the coachman and guard; they turned
pale, their hands shook, and their eyes nearly started out
of their heads as the awful truth came home to them that
they had supped to repletion on horsesteak, and what
was worse they had enjoyed it!

The old coachmen were necessarily men of strong
constitutions, for the work they were called upon to
perform was arduous, and called for great physical
endurance. The box-seat was a place of exquisite dis-
comfort, susceptible to every jolt and jar; the horses were
ill-bred, over worked, and badly put together, so that
it was no light undertaking to drive them, and coach-
men and teams were rarely changed, but went from one
end of the journey to another. That the coachmen
brought their coaches through in safety was in no
small measure due to the exercise of fanning, springing
and towelling; terms which being interpreted for the

48 THE COACHING ERA

benefit of the uninitiated mean, whipping, galloping,
and flogging. For the better performance of the last
named, the coachmen kept in reserve a special weapon
known as the "apprentice," or "Tickle Toby," which,
judiciously applied, was calculated to inspire the most
jaded cattle to fresh endeavours.

With the introduftion of mail-coaches, and the
consequent renovation of all things appertaining to
coaching, the old race of coachmen gradually died out,
and their places were taken by a totally different class of
men.

This change was in a great way due to the growing
popularity of the outside of the coach and the realization
that the box-seat was a place of honour and distin6fion.
The old coachmen had for their companions soldiers,
sailors, and poor people who wished to travel cheaply,
but when coaches were well turned out, well horsed,
and driven at the rate of ten miles an hour, men of
birth and education rebelled against the cramped
quarters of the inside of the coach, and began to vie
with each other in their anxiety to secure the box-seat.
There they could obtain the full benefit of the coach-
man's spicy conversation, and if they showed themselves
appreciative, and were prepared to tip liberally, they
might attain the coveted distin6tion of handling the
ribbons.

The coachmen adapted themselves to their company
and, during the latter and glorious half of the coaching
era, the swell dragsmen on the crack coaches were men
skilled in their art, smart in appearance, possessed of

COACHMEN 49

strong personalities, and very distinct ideas of their own
importance.

George Borrow, who detested them, wrote thus with
exceeding bitterness:

"The stage-coachmen of England, at the time of
which I am speaking, considered themselves mighty fine
gentry, nay, I verily believe the most important per-
sonages of the realm, and their entertaining this high
opinion of themselves can scarcely be wondered at;
they were low fellows, but masters at driving; driving
was in fashion, and sprigs of nobility used to dress as
coachmen and imitate the slang and behaviour of the
coachmen, from whom they would occasionally take
lessons in driving as they sat beside them on the box,
which post of honour any sprig of nobility, who hap-
pened to take a place on a coach, claimed as his un-
questionable right; and these sprigs would smoke cigars
and drink sherry with the coachmen in bar-rooms, and
on the road, and when bidding them farewell would
give them a guinea or half a guinea, and shake them by
the hand, so that these fellows, being low fellows, very
naturally thought no small liquor of themselves, but
would talk familiarly of their friends. Lord So-and-So,
the Honourable Mister So-and-So, and Sir Harry and
Sir Charles, and be wonderfully saucy to anyone who
was not a lord, or something of the kind; and this high
opinion of themselves received daily augmentation from
the servile homage paid them by the generality of the
untitled male passengers, especially those on the fore-
part of the coach who used to contend for the honour of
sitting on the box with the coachman when no ^rig was
nigh to put in his claim. Oh! what servile homage these
craven creatures did pay these same coach fellows, more
especially after witnessing this or t'other adl of brutality

50 THE COACHING ERA

praftised upon the weak and unoffending — upon some
poor, friendless woman travelling with but little money,
and perhaps a brace of hungry children with her, or upon
some thin and half-starved man travelling on the hind
part of the coach from London to Liverpool, with only
eighteenpence in his pocket after his fare was paid, to
defray his expenses on the road, for as the insolence of
these knights of the road was vast, so was their rapacity
enormous; they had been so long accustomed to have
crowns and half-crowns rained upon them by their
admirers and flatterers, that they would look at a shilling,
for which many an honest labourer was happy to toil for
ten hours under a broiling sun, with the utmost con-
tempt; would blow upon it derisively, or fillip it into
the air before they pocketed it; but when nothing was
given them, as would occasionally happen — for how
could they receive from those who had nothing? and
nobody was bound to give them anything, as they had
certain wages from their employers — then what a scene
would ensue!"

George Borrow was certainly unlucky in his acquaint-
ance with stage-coachmen. Leigh Hunt held them in
very different estimation:

"The mail or stage-coachman, upon the whole, is no
inhuman mass of great-coats, gruffness, civility, and old
boots. The latter is the politer, from the smaller range of
acquaintance, and his necessity for preserving them.

"His face is red, and his voice rough, by the same
process of drink and catarrh. He has a silver watch with a
steel chain, and plenty of loose silver in his pocket, mixed
with halfpence. He serves the houses he goes by for a
clock. He takes a glass at every alehouse; for thirst, when
it is dry, and for warmth when it is wet.

COACHMEN 51

"He likes to show the judicious use of his whip, by-
twigging a dog or a goose on the road, or children that
get in the way. His tenderness to descending old ladies
is particular. He touches his hat to Mr. Smith. He
gives 'the young woman' a ride, and lends her his box-
coat in the rain. His liberalityin imparting his knowledge
to anyone who has the good fortune to ride on the box
with him is a happy mixture of deference, conscious
possession and familiarity. His information lies chiefly in
the occupancy of houses on the road, prize-fighters, Bow
Street runners, and accidents.

" He concludes that you know Dick Sams, or old Joey,
and proceeds to relate some of the stories that relish his
pot and tobacco in the evening. If any of the four-in-
hand gentry go by, he shakes his head, and thinks they
might find something better to do. His contempt for
them is founded on modesty.

"He tells you that his off-hand horse is as pretty a
goer as ever there was, but that Kitty — 'Yeah, now there,
Kitty, can't you be still? — Kitty's a devil, sir, for all
you wouldn't think it.' He knows that all the boys on the
road admire him, and gives the horses an indifferent
lash with the whip as they go by. If you wish to know
what rain and dust can do, you should look at his old
hat. There is an indescribably placid and paternal look
in the position of his corduroy knees and old top-
boots on the foot-board, with their pointed toes and
never cleaned soles. His beau-ideal of appearance is a
frock-coat, with mother-o'-pearl buttons, a striped
yellow waistcoat, and a flower in his mouth."

The drivers both of the mails and stages were as a rule
civil, good-natured men, and polite to all classes of
passengers, though naturally they had a preference for
those whose interests were akin to their own, and who

52 THE COACHING ERA

could appreciate the points of their team, and converse
with them in the language of the road.

"I talk to nobody about 'orses except lords," declares
the coachman in LavengrOy and Jem Howell considered
that a member of the nobility was a distin£l ornament to
a coach-box saying: "I like to have a lord about my coach,
it looks so respectable. " Besides a knowledge of horse-
flesh "Lords" had two other endearing qualities — they
made good listeners, and they tipped well.

Lord Abingdon who was a noted whip often drove
the Blenheim coach with its celebrated team of greys,
but one day he had the box-seat he did not take the
ribbons, though the coachman offered them to him
with the conventional remark: "Now, my lord, have you
your driving-gloves on?" When the coach reached the
Gloucester Coffee House, Lord Abingdon gave the
coachman his fee, who looked at it disdainfully:

"My lord, half a sovereign."

"Yes, you see I did not drive."

"But you might have, my lord," was the reproachful
reply.

"Oh well, give it me back," said Lord Abingdon,
producing a sovereign.

"Thank you, my lord, that's right. We don't do
things by halves on the Blenheim."

The old coachmen and the swell dragsmen differed
greatly in externals, but had many traits in common,
among the most prominent of which was a strong pre-
disposition for "shouldering," which, in the expressive
slang of the road, meant carrying passengers whose

COACHMEN 53

names were not down on the way-bill, and whose fares
went into the pockets of the coachmen and guards
instead of the proprietor's. This well-established custom
flourished exceedingly despite strenuous efforts on the
part of those in authority to put it down. The most
ingenious device for the abolition of shouldering was
making the fine of 40s. payable to the turnpike men, who
eagerly embraced the opportunity of adding to their
incomes. The coachmen got out of the difficulty by
putting extra passengers down on one side of the gate
and taking them up on the other; a pradfice which
entailed a heavy penalty if detedled.

Even more abhorrent than the "pikes" in the eyes of
the coachmen, were the professional informers who
patrolled the roads with the avowed intention of catch-
ing coachmen infringing some of the innumerable laws
which Parliament had enafted for the regulation of their
conduft, but which they ignored with the greatest
possible freedom. When an informer managed to
convi6l a coachman of shouldering, allowing amateurs to
drive, being the worse for drink, carrying excess luggage,
or committing any other sin for which a fine was ex-
pressly specified, he pocketed the whole or part of the
penalty as the Court might decide.

As was only to be expefted, the coachmen hated the
informers with the bitterest hatred, and the whole of
their extensive vocabulary was inadequate to express
their opinion of them. Occasionally informers were seen
and recognized on the road; then ostlers became blind
and deaf, whilst the coachman with the most exquisite

54 THE COACHING ERA

joy would trash their enemy, duck him in the nearest
pond, or otherwise pay out old scores in whatever manner
their ingenuity suggested.

The most notorious informer was a man named Byers^
who harassed the coachmen on the Brighton road to
their great infuriation. In 1825 he transferred his
attention to the Bath Road, where in the space of a
fortnight he laid thirty-four informations involving
penalties amounting to ^^500, of which a large proportion
went into his own pocket.

Hearing that an eleftion was in progress at Oxford,
he rightly judged it to be a propitious time for catching
university coachmen tripping. Accompanied by a friend
he therefore paid a surprise visit to the Oxford road,
where he instantly began to lay information against
coachmen for carrying excess passengers during the
eleftion.

The day came for the hearing of the cases, but the two
chief witnesses did not appear. The reason for their
absence was soon apparent, for the city was in an uproar,
caused by the fads that as the two informers were on
the way to the hall they suddenly came face to face
with a seleft deputation of Oxford coachmen. The
informers gave one look and fled. The coachmen
halloed and pursued, the crowd joined in, and Oxford
enjoyed the thrilling and novel experience of a man hunt.
The informers provided a good run, but were eventu-

1 In "A Lay of St. Nicholas" (Ingoldshy Legends) Byers is
represented as carrying on his trade of informer: "The accusing
Byers flew up to Heaven's Chancery."

■^

•^

t^.

«^

COACHMEN 55

ally pulled down by the coaclimen who ducked them
joyously in the river.

Oxford in those days could have produced a perfe6l
regiment of coachmen had occasion required, for the
University town was a most important junction in the
coaching era, as many as seventy-three coaches passing
through the city daily.

It naturally followed that a great many coachmen
resided in the town, and St. John's Street alone could
boast the honour of no less than fourteen of the coaching
fraternity. Two of these were old John Bayzand, who
drove the Southampton Oxonian for thirty-six years,
and Will Stacey, of the Alert, and one evening as they
were on their way home they chanced to meet three
retired tailors who resided in Beaumont Street, and
rejoiced in the names of Mr. Speakman, Mr. Dry, and
Mr. Banting. These tailors thought not inconsiderably
of themselves, and had planned a joke at the coachmen's
expense.

"Well, gentlemen, done your daily toil?" inquired
Mr. Banting.

"Yes," replied Bayzand, and would have passed but
the tailors detained him.

"We have had a consultation, and with your per-
mission, we are going to change the name of your

street."

"Oh, certainly," replied Bayzand, "may I inquire
what name you intend to bestow on it?"

"Oh, Whipcord Terrace," returned the tailor, whilst
the others acclaimed his wit.

S6 THE COACHING ERA

"Well, that is strange," retorted Bayzand instantly,
"for we were about to alter the name of your street,
provided we could obtain your sanftion."

"Oh, with pleasure; 'tis granted," said Mr. Speakman
patronizingly.

"We thought Threadneedle Street would be appropri-
ate,"^ said the coachman suavely, and passed on leaving
the discomfited tailors.

It was not easy to get the better of old John Bayzand,
for he was nimble of wit and apt at repartee; moreover,
he was possessed of such a fund of good stories, and had
so many jokes to crack, that he boasted that his pas-
sengers were never dull.

The Southampton coach passed a quaint little church,
and travellers generally inquired its name.

"Newtown, sir," Bayzand would reply, "and there's
a very curious thing about that church, for they
ring all the bells for a funeral, and only one for a
wedding."

"Dear me," was the invariable reply, "how very extra-
ordinary, what can have given rise to such a custom?" |

When they had speculated sufficiently the coachman
would remark:

"Well, you see, sir, there is only one bell."

Bayzand was very fond of his horses, and it said much
for his popularity that he was able to prevail on his pas-
sengers to get out and walk whenever they approached
a hill; and they were many on the Southampton road.
When they objected Bayzand cajoled them somehow,
^ MSS. William Bayzand, Bodleian Library.

COACHMEN 57

and he once got the better of a clergyman whose actions
were strangely at variance with his admonitions.

Regular attendance at church was scarcely a typical
feature of the old coachmen, but Bayzand always made
a point of visiting St. Mary's to hear the University
sermon. One Monday morning when he started from
the Mitre with his four long-tailed blacks, he had the
preacher of the previous day on the box-seat beside him,
and three fellows of New College on the seat behind.

At the bottom of Hinksey Hill Bayzand politely
requested them all to get out and walk, which they did,
though the clergyman evidently thought it would entail
loss of time, for he asked rather pointedly what time the
coach was due at Whitchurch.

"One o'clock, sir," replied Bayzand.

During the next stage there occurred another steep
hill and Bayzand asked his passengers to get down and
ease the horses.

"Coachman," cried the clergyman in evident annoy-
ance, ''''what time did you say we were due at Whit-
church?"

"At one o'clock, sir," reiterated Bayzand.

At the third hill, he once more appealed to them to
walk, and the clergyman's anger could no longer be con-
tained.

"Coachman," he said irritably, "you will never get
to Whitchurch at this rate. Why don't you drive the
horses faster? Pitch into them right and left and make
them gallop."

"Oh, sir," cried Bayzand in pretended horror, "I

58 THE COACHING ERA

wish you had been at St. Mary's church yesterday, and
heard the strange parson preach such a beautiful sermon
from the text: 'A merciful man is merciful to his beast!'"

The fellows from New College became purple from
suppressed laughter, Bayzand looked gently grieved;
the box-seat passengers said nothing, but at the next
change he hurriedly dismounted and went inside the
coach.

"Bayzand, it was too bad of you," cried the fellows
from New College, trying to moderate their mirth.

"Indeed, gentlemen. May I ask why?" said Bayzand
in pretended innocence.

"You old rascal," said one of them. "You know very
well that was the man who preached the sermon."

"Well, to be sure!" said John Bayzand.

The coach reached Whitchurch on the stroke of one;
a circumstance which Bayzand did not fail to point out
to the clergyman, who said never a word, but seized his
bag and departed hurriedly.

Bayzand was the last coachman to drive over Old
Folly Bridge, and the first to cross the new one in 1826.
He was known as the "Sweeper," because when going
down Oriel Lane he always made a long turn at the
corner, whilst Bill Taylor, who drove the Oxonian on
alternate days, cut the corner very fine, and in conse-
quence was called the "Scraper."

One bitterly cold wet night, John Bayzand was driving
his coach over Winchester Downs, when he passed a poor
man scantily clad tramping along with his bundle over
his shoulder.

COACHMEN 59

"Coachman," said a gentleman on the roof, "give
that poor fellow a lift."

Bayzand willingly complied, and scarcely was the man
seated when one of the passenger lent him a coat, another
a shawl, and he was soon warm and comfortable.

"And now tell us where you have come from," said
one.

"India," replied the man. "Yesterday I got my
discharge from Portsmouth after being from England
more than twenty-five years. I went as substitute for a
Mr. John Bayzand of Aston-under-Hill."

"Why, I am John Bayzand," exclaimed the coachman.

All the travellers were much interested at the un-
expefted meeting between the two men, and a military
looking gentleman, who occupied the box-seat, took the
soldier's address and asked him many questions.

The passengers clubbed together to give the poor man
a good dinner at Newbury, paid his fare to Oxford and
gave him a sovereign. John Bayzand took his substitute
home with him, provided him with a new suit of clothes
and some money. Shortly afterwards the soldier re-
ceived a letter from the War Office, and found he was
entitled to a good pension, which he owed to the repre-
sentation and kindness of the gentleman who occupied
the box-seat on the Oxonian.

Many of the coachmen had nicknames bestowed
upon them for some peculiarity of habit or appearance;
John Barnshaw, who drove the Rising Sun, was "Civil
John" for his urbanity; James Witherington was
"Bloody Jimmy" for his severity with his horses; whilst

6o THE COACHING ERA

Tillimant Bobart, driver of the Oxford Balloon, was
known far and wide as the "Classical Coachman," from
the fa61: that he had been to college, and was a Bachelor
of Arts. Such was the diversity of his accomplishments,
that he "capped verses and the front of his hat with
equal dexterity, and read Horace over his brandy and
water of an evening."

Most famous of all was Will Bov/ers who drove the
Alert, and from the darkness of his complexion was
known far and wide as "Black Will"; a fa6l of which he
was fully aware and resented not a little. At a trial
in which he was in some way concerned, he was cross-
examined to the following effeft.

Counsel: I believe your name is Bowers?

Bowers: It is.

Coutisel: You drive the London coach?

Bowers: I do.

Counsel: Are you considered a good coachman?

Bowers: Yes (and with true professional pride) ; I've
never had an upset.

Counsel: (not in the least impressed, and anxious to
insinuate against the witness's character)
Now, sir, can you deny that you are often
spoken of as "Black Will"?

Bowers: Yes, by blackguards; gentlemen call me Mr.
Bowers (whereat the counsel collapsed and
the Court was convulsed with laughter).

One day just before term commenced "Black Will"
drew up at the White Horse cellars, Piccadilly, with his
coach filled inside and out with undergraduates. An
exceptionally pretty girl came up to ask if there was room

COACHMEN 6i

for one inside, and the undergraduates craned forward
to look at her, becoming ecstatic over her beauty.

"What a peach!" exclaimed one.

"Quite lovely!" cried another.

"Heavenly!" raved a third.

"Sorry, miss, but we're full inside and out," replied
Bowers in response to her inquiry.

"Couldn't you make room for one more?" she urged.

"Impossible," said Will ; then seeing her disappoint-
ment added, "That is, unless the gentlemen give their
permission."

The undergraduates gave it instantly and unanimously.

"There's lots of room inside," they cried, "We are
not very big and can easily make room for one more."

"If the gentlemen consent I have no objedlion," said
Bowers.

"We consent," cried the eager Oxonians.

The girl paid the fare, the guard opened the door,
saying:

"Now, miss, if you please. We are losing time."

"Come along, grandma," cried the pretty girl to a
stout old lady who had accompanied her but taken no
part in the proceedings. "Get in, and be sure you
thank the young gentlemen."

Petrifaction seized the undergraduates as the guard
opened the door, the coachman mounted the box, and
the full horror of their situation dawned on them.

"Stop, stop," they cried. "There's some mistake; we
shall be crushed to death."

The young lady tittered, the guard was convulsed,

62 THE COACHING ERA

the outside Oxonians were doubled up in the very ecstasy
of mirth, and even "Black Will" grinned as the coach
drove off to the accompaniment of the bitter lamenta-
tions of the deluded insides.

It was not always the passengers whose undoing caused
merriment and provided so many good stories down the
road, for coachmen themselves were hoaxed sometimes,
and Jem Howell, who drove the Birmingham day coach,
and liked a joke himself, was once effedlively taken in.
When driving along the bleak exposed road near Enstone,
a farm lad called out to him to stop, and with true
Oxfordshire deliberation and drawl asked if there was
room for three inside passengers.

"Yes, my boy, plenty of room," replied Howell.

"For three inside?" reiterated the boy.

"Yes, yes, make haste."

"Did you understand, sir?" persisted the lad.

"Oh, yes; three inside passengers."

"Three," emphasized the boy.

"Yes, yes; do be quick, my boy," answered Howell
impatiently.

"You be sure you have room?"

"Why, yes, how many more times must I tell you?"

"Wal," drawled the youth, as he turned on his heel,
"if I does happen to hear of anyone as wants to go, I'll
let you know."

What would have happened if he attempted to play
such a trick on another coachman, by name John Spooner,
passes all powers of imagination, for he was notorious for
his hasty temper, and Mr. Costar, who horsed the coach,

COACHMEN 63

received so many complaints of his servant's incivilities
to the passengers, that he at length suspended him from
his duties by way of a salutary lesson.

A coachman deprived of his box was a being intensely
wretched, and Spooner haunted the Angel Hotel at
Oxford, and increased his wretchedness by watching the
coaches start. At length Mr. Costar took pity on him,
and told him he might resume his duties, provided that
he could keep a still tongue in his head.

Spooner determined to carry out this instrudlion
literally, for that night, though the box-passenger asked
many and repeated questions, not one word could he
get in reply. At length being considerably puzzled he
turned to the guard and inquired if the coachman was
deaf.

" A little, sir," replied the guard who was in ecstasy,
wondering how long it would be before Spooner's
silence and temper alike gave out, when he looked for-
ward to the pleasure of seeing the gentleman curl up
under the lash of the coachman's tongue.

The passenger asked a few more questions but with
no better result, so at last he desisted, and the night
passed in silence. With the dawn the gentleman resumed
his questioning, and, pointing to a country residence
asked to whom it belonged. As he received no answer he
repeated his question in a louder tone; finally, feeling
that the coachman was nothing like so deaf as he pre-
tended to be, he fairly shouted at him, and Spooner's
anger could no longer be restrained.

"It's not mine," he roared in a rage, "nor yours or

64 THE COACHING ERA

you wouldn't ask such foolish questions." Then the
remembrance of Mr. Costar's advice returned to him
and he added bitterly: "Perhaps now you will try and
say I am not civil!"

On a certain night Spooner had three inside passengers
in the Gloucester mail, one of them being a well-known
banker notorious for his meanness. At Henley the
coachmen were changed and Spooner asked for his fee.
Two of the travellers gave him a shilling apiece, but the
banker searched his pockets for a sixpence. Spooner,
to show his scorn for such a meagrely dole, jerked his
arm as if to throw it into the Thames. The mail had
just started when the banker discovered that instead of
sixpence he had given the coachman half a sovereign.
He immediately stopped the coach and demanded the
return of the money.

"Well, you saw what I did with it," said Spooner, "I
should think it is at the bottom of the Thames by this

time."

The banker raved but to no purpose, and he drove off
declaring his intention of writing to Spooner's proprietor.

He carried out his threat, and when Mr. Costar heard
the circumstances he was fully inclined to take his ser-
vant's part, but having an extensive knowledge of coach-
men in general and this one in particular he inquired,
with a twinkle in his eye, if Spooner had adually thrown
the coin into the river.

"No, sir," he replied, "it fell into my little side pocket,
and I did the miserable niggardly banker."

Spooner looked on the majority of his passengers as

COACHMEN 65

his sworn enemies, but he entertained something like
friendliness for a certain sporting parson who lived in
Oxford, and whose mania was coaching. One day,
after a sharp dispute with another traveller who also
desired it, he secured the box-seat on the Leamington
coach, which a few minutes later upset and caused his
death.

His funeral was unique, for as a tribute to his ruling
passion his coi^n was placed in a hearse drawn by-
four horses, and John Spooner deputed to drive it. To
the horror and consternation of the mourners, Spooner
had no sooner mounted the box than he whipped up the
astonished black horses and drove off as hard as he could
and arrived at the churchyard long before the rest of the
procession. He was remonstrated with for his scandalous
behaviour, but, feeling that he had known the dead man
better than any of them, he replied coolly: "You couldn't
drive fast enough for him when he was alive, so I thought
I would give him a good shake up when he was dead."

Sporting parsons were somewhat rare and, as a rule,
churchmen and coachmen were not affinities. One day
a clergyman went to the Cheltenham booking-office and
took the box-seat on the Isis coach which was driven by
Ned Burford, who was notorious for the fluency of his
language. The book-keeper, as he took the money,
coughed and looked doubtful, and wishing to save the
clergyman pain, said deprecatingly:

"I do not think you will feel quite at home with the
coachman, sir."

"Why not?" inquired the parson.
5

ee THE COACHING ERA

"Oh, he occasionally talks rather so-so," was the reply,
by which the book-keeper delicately implied that when
things went wrong with Ned his remarks were such that
no clergyman could listen to with propriety.

"Oh, never mind that," said the parson, and went
headlong to his doom.

For the first part of the journey the coachman and
box-seat passenger got on admirably. The talk fell on the
recent balloon ascents, of which neither approved, and
Ned gave his opinion thus:

"There, sir, I call it downright wicked presumption in
the extreme, those balloons trying to solve more than
they ought."

"I am of the same opinion," said the clergyman,
thinking that Ned was a much maligned charafter, for
his feelings, though forcible, were delicately and well
expressed. At that moment one of the horses stumbled
and nearly fell. The change in the coachman was in-
stantaneous, for he began to curse and swear in a frightful
manner. The clergyman during the whole of his blame-
less existence had never imagined such appalling nouns
and adjeftives as fell with ready fluency from Ned's lips.
He remained speechless, rightly judging that any inter-
ference would render him the recipient of language more
picturesque than polite, but he turned red, white, green,
and other colours indicative of strongly suppressed
emotions, and at the first opportunity hastened to ex-
change the lurid atmosphere of the box-seat for the
chaste seclusion of the inside.

Many passengers delighted to draw out the coachman,

COACHMEN e-j

and two of them once proposed to Joe Stephens that
they should have a competition as to who could compose
the best piece of poetry before the coach reached the
Chequers Inn at Whitway. The gentlemen soon made
theirs, but Stephen found poetry a far tougher job than
driving a coach, and they were within a hundred yards
of the Chequers Inn when he saw two pigs belonging to
Mr. Perkins, the landlord, which gave him an idea.

"Gentlemen," he announced, "I am ready," and at
once repeated this oration:

"Mr. Perkins had two pigs

As fine as one another,
Robin Hood was one's name,

Little John t'other."

"Eravo!" cried the hugely amused passengers. "You
have fairly beaten us and shall have the prize."

Stephens did not come off quite so well another time
when he had a gay young spark on the box to whom
he gave tuition in driving, to the no small alarm and
apprehension of a Quaker on the seat behind. Anxious
to show off, Stephens pointed to a tree and said:

"Now if I was to set these horses at full gallop, do you
think I could pull them up before we got to that tree?"

The box-seat passenger, seeing that he was expefted
to reply in the negative, declared that such a thing
would be impossible.

The coachman immediately set his team off at full
speed, the coach rocked, and the Quaker held on for dear

life.

68 THE COACHING ERA

Stephens pulled up at the tree, and looked com-
placently at his passenger who gave utterance to words
expressive of excessive and staggering admiration. The
Quaker said nothing but thought the more.

He got down at Newbury, when Stephens asked for
his fee.

"Nay, friend," said the Quaker, "if thee hadst been a
little stronger in thy head, and not so strong in thy arms,
I should have given thee a shilling; I shall now give it
thy guard."

CHAPTER V GUARDS

ARMED guards for the prote6lIon of the mail-
coaches were from the first an outstanding
feature of Mr. Palmer's scheme for complete
postal reform. The Post Office officials, how-
ever, eyed them dubiously and entertained grave doubts
as to their probity, declaring that the ale houses by
the way would prove potent fadtors for their un-
doing.

When Mr. Palmer's plan came into force, the mail-
guards gave the lie dired to the Post Office, anent their
predileftion for strong drink, but came perilously near
fulfilling another of the objedions raised against their
institution. The heads of the department had expressed
their horror at the idea of providing the guards with
weapons of defence, declaring that such a course would
inevitably lead to wholesale murder. That it did not was
more by accident than design, for the first mail guards
were so inflated with the importance of their position,
and so exceedingly joyous in the possession of that
fearsome weapon the blunderbuss, that they testified
their delight in such sportive ways that the public were
in a state of extreme terror. Before the mail-guards had
been in existence for the space of one month, it was
found necessary to issue stringent regulations forbidding
them to fire off their blunderbusses when passing through
towns or villages.

Apparently, the blunderbuss possessed an immense

fascination for the guards and, like a small boy with a

70 THE COACHING ERA

popgun, they shot at anything and everything that in
their eyes was a suitable target. The slugs with which
they loaded the blunderbusses were intended to lodge in
the bodies of highwaymen, but the "gentlemen of the
road " looked askance at the mail-coaches which threa-
tened to destroy their trade and, with great want of
consideration for the feelings of the armed guards longing
to display their valour, refused to present themselves
as targets. The guards, thus baulked of their legitimate
prey, varied the monotony of coaching by shooting at
dogs, sheep, pigs, hens, etc., and by pointing their
deadly weapons at innocent and terror-struck travellers,
thereby frightening them nearly out of their lives.

These sportive proceedings were eyed with disfavour,
and, in Wales, one Mr. Pennant, who hated mail-
coaches and all that concerned them because they were
exempt from tolls, determined that the next guard who
erred ever so little from the direft path defined for mail-
guards should be brought to judgment. He did not have
long to wait, for word was brought him that a guard,
nicknamed the "Prince of Wales" from the extreme
elegance of his person, had not only shot a dog because
it had barked at him, but also threatened to blow the
turnpike-keeper's brains out.

Clear acts of violence both of these, and Mr. Pennant
at once issued a warrant against him. The sequel was
unexpected, for Mr. Pennant who had been praying
that a guard might be delivered into his hands, for him
to make an example of for the petrification of all mail-
guards, was so softened by the charms of the "Prince of

GUARDS 71

Wales," that, after impressing on him that guards were
entrusted with firearms for the proteftion of the mails
and coaches, and not as he seemed to suppose for the
express purpose of terrifying His Majesty's subjects, he
dismissed him with a reprimand.

That the guards did not discontinue their evil practices
is evident from the f aft that subsequent regulations made
them liable to a fine of ^5 if they fired their blunder-
busses without due cause or provocation.

The Post Ofiice officials, undoubtedly, had the guards
very much on their minds, and sought to regulate their
condu6l by an extensive list of rules which set forth what
a guard was and was not to do in every conceivable
emergency.

He was to see that the coachmen kept true time; and
to report him if he did not. To blow his horn at specified
distances and places, in order that toll-gates should be
open, fresh horses waiting, mail-bags ready, carts drawn
out of the way, that there might be no let or hindrance
to the expeditious passage of that arrogantly important
vehicle, His Majesty's Mail.

The guard's first and foremost duty was to the mail-
bags, and the authorities could not sufficiently impress
upon them the paramount importance of the mails and
the comparative insignificance of the passengers.

If a coach broke down, overturned, stuck in a snow-
drift, was stopped by highwaymen, or met with any of
those reverses to which the best regulated coaches were
liable at times, the guard was not to trouble himself un-
duly about the passengers. Their safety was no concern

72 THE COACHING ERA

of his, he had to attend to the far more important matter
of the mails, which must arrive true to time whatever
happened. For their safe conveyance the guard might
take one or two horses as he chose and, leaving the
coachman and passengers to get out of the difficulty as
best they could, ride forward to the next change. There
was no statute to the effeft that he might not send
some one to help the coach, but if the next inn stables
contained only two horses, and the guard wanted them,
he would most undoubtedly take them. He was, in fa6l,
expedled to go on to London as though nothing had
happened, to take the mails either by chaise or horse-
back, to change at the appointed stages, and push forward
at all hazards.

That the guards were loyally true to their trust is
evident from the heroic efforts they made to get forward
with the mails under the most adverse circumstances,
and against overwhelming difficulties. Joseph James
Nobbs, one of the old mail-guards, has left an account of
his experiences during the terrific snow-storm of 1836.
Several times his coach stuck in the drifts, and was
unable to proceed, when Nobbs according to his in-
struftions mounted one of the horses and set off with the
mails, making his way as best he could through the snow-
covered country. Once he was two nights and days with-
out rest, battling all the while with a raging snow-
storm, and nearly frozen with the intense cold. By way
of reward for his strenuous exertion Nobbs received a
letter of thanks from the Postmaster General, who
thereby put an exalted value on his autograph according

^W^

^ 5 <

■J -^

GUARDS 73

to the estimate of the guard, who had expedled a more
material reward for his strenuous exertions.

The same winter the Birmingham mail-coach came
to grief seventy miles from London, and the guard,
exercising his prerogative, appropriated two of the
horses to carry the mails and set out for London. A
blinding snow-storm was raging so that he soon lost
all traces of the road, and wandered across country over
hedges and ditches, losing his way more often than he
found it. When he eventually reached London he was
in a distressing state of exhaustion, but he had done his
duty and got his mails forward, a reward which in itself
the Post Office deemed sufficient recompense.

That department, though expedling great things of
the guards, was by no means disposed to err towards
them on the side of generosity. It gave them a gorgeous
uniform, it is true, no doubt realizing that an imposing
and slightly bizarre appearance is of immense assistance
to any public funftionary, and goes a long way to in-
spiring respeft. The guard's uniform consisted of a red
coat with gilt buttons, dark blue waistcoat, and a hat
adorned with gold lace and a cockade ; these undoubtedly
conferred great distindlion on the wearer, who with his
horn and key-bugle was an obje£l of much admiration.

The Post Office only paid the guards ten shillings a
week, out of which they had to provide the oil for their
lamps, but they by no means depended on their official
pay for a livelihood, and the position was eagerly sought
after on account of the perquisites it entailed. A guard
often received as much as three or four pounds a week

74 THE COACHING ERA

in tips alone, and there were many other ways by which
they could add to their incomes. V^ery early in their
career they discovered that there was a handsome profit
to be made by purchasing goods cheaply in the country
and selling them in London. Bayzand specialized in
watercress, paying ^i for a sack, and receiving [2 for it
from a London dealer.

The shopkeepers depended largely on goods brought
up by the guards, and great indeed was their agitation
when the snow-storm of 1836 caused the coaches to be
snowbound in the provinces, and in consequence
London was face to face with the awful prospedl of a
turkeyless Christmas.

When the Mazeppa coach managed to struggle
through, it was met on its arrival by a harassed poulterer
who breathlessly inquired of William Bayzand if he had
any turkeys. The guard replied that he had; twenty of
them in fadl, but keep one for his own Christmas dinner
he must and would.

The thought of nineteen birds to be divided among a
turkeyless capital raised the poulterer's spirits consider-
ably, and he begged the guard to sell them one and all
to him, and to name his own price. This put Bayzand
into a predicament, for he was afraid of opening his
mouth too wide, and a great deal more afraid of asking
too little. Seeing his hesitation, the poulterer, who was
in an agony of apprehension lest a rival poulterer should
get wind of the turkeys and come in pursuit of them,
offered ;^20. The guard agreed and the bargain was
struck, but how poignant must have been his feelings

GUARDS 75

when the purchaser, secure in the possession of the
nineteen turkeys, remarked that he had been quite pre-
pared to go as high as ^30 or ^40 in order to secure them.

Bayzand and Foules driving one night with an empty
coach had a stroke of luck which occasioned them much
joy. The Mazeppa suddenly gave a lurch which showed
that she had gone over something and Bayzand got down
to investigate. It proved to be a bacon pig, which had
evidently fallen out of a waggon bound for Hereford
market. Such a heaven-sent gift could not be negle6ted
and the coachman and guard determined to have it at
all costs. Bayzand tried to pull it towards the coach,
but it was beyond his powers. In such cause, however,
the coachman did not scruple to risk the coach and the
proprietor's team of thoroughbred horses, and he left
the box and went to his colleague's assistance. Together
they started to drag the prize along, but the noise they
made startled the horses, and Foules was obliged to
rush to and fro to quiet them, so that it was some time
before the pig was pulled up to the coach and made an
inside passenger for the rest of the journey. When the
Mazeppa reached its destination Bayzand drove off in-
quisitive porters, and at the first opportunity he and the
coachman carried their find to the latter's house, where
they divided the pig between them, and declared that
their unexpedfed present proved the best bacon they
had ever tasted.

Many queer customers went into the boot, ostensibly
provided for the conveyance of passengers' luggage, but
which at a pinch could be made to do duty as a larder or

']6 THE COACHING ERA

a menagerie cage. It provided a snug receptacle for the
conveyance of contraband spirits and unlicensed game,
for smugglers and poachers soon realized that there was
no safer conveyance than His Majesty's Mails. Occa-
sionally officers of the law would appear unexpeftedly
with the avowed intention of searching the coach. Then
was the time to see the guard in all the dignity of out-
raged officialdom, as he virtuously and indignantly
upheld the inviolable sandlity of His Majesty's Mails,
and averred his firm determination to defend them with
his life and his blunderbuss. As he was stri6tly within his
rights, and no one might tamper with or delay the mails
without special authority, he was thus enabled to pro-
ceed on his journey and land his contraband spirit or bags
of game in security. Some guards even went so far as to
use the mail-bags for their own convenience, and one.
who dealt extensively in fish, carried his goods in the
official bags, whereat the sorters at the Post Office
complained exceeding bitterly that they were nearly
smothered with fish scales.

As the coaches constituted pra61:ically the only means
of conveyance, it naturally followed that all sorts of
things were carried through their medium, and when the
Earl of Shrewsbury wished to send a valuable hound to
Mr. Villebois, the master of the Hampshire hunt, he
consigned it with many admonitions to the care of the
guard on the coach. For better security it was put in the
boot, but when the coach arrived at Sandwell Priory near
Newbury, where Squire Villebois was anxiously awaiting
his hound, he was considerably chagrined to find it had

GUARDS ^^

gnawed a hole in the boot and escaped. Subsequently it
was found that the animal had made the best of his way-
back to the Shrewsbury kennels.

The boot often held a pig, sheep, or calf belonging to
the coachman or guard. Once it was known to contain
a clergyman whose need to travel was urgent and the
coach full; another time two sailors chose it as being the
snuggest place in the coach.

They intended to travel by the Champion coach from
Gloucester, and were probably none too sober, for just
as the coach was about to start one of them fell off the
roof, into a saddler's shop, and cut himself so badly that
he was unable to proceed. His companion refused to go
on without him, and though they had legally forfeited
their fares the book-keeper sent them on next day by the
Mazeppa coach.

The sailors entered into conversation with Bayzand,
who soon elicited the information that they were on their
way to London to join their ship, and they had not so
much as a penny piece between them. Being a kind-
hearted man, he bought them a loaf and a pint of shrimps
at Cheltenham, and a glass of rum each at Northleach
to keep out the cold. The tars were very grateful, and
as the cold increased they spent most of the journey
curled up fast asleep in the boot. When they arrived in
London Bayzand presented them with half a crown each
and put them in a cab.

"We'll never forget you, mate," cried the sailors, as
they drove off to the Docks.

The guard thought no more of the matter, but long

78 THE COACHING ERA

afterwards the porter at the booking-office showed him a
parcel and asked him if he could make anything of the
direction which he confessed fairly beat him. The address
certainly did not err on the side of lucidity being thus:
"Ga-d-M -pha-c-h."

"Why, I do believe it's meant for me," said Bayzand
after some cogitation, and translated the inscription as
meant for the "Guard of the Mazeppa coach."

The porter thought it might as well be that as any-
thing else, and suggested the parcel should be opened.
When it was untied it was found to contain a thousand
cigars wrapped up in greasy paper, and a dirty note bear-
ing the words "for your kindness to us chaps. Hope to
see you soon." The guard smoked the cigars and was
much touched by the kindness of the gift, but he never
saw either of the sailors again.

William Bayzand was known as the business guard
from the number of commissions he undertook, whilst
John Blyth on the same coach was called the musical
guard from his skill on the key-bugle. Key-bugles were
far more popular on the road than the orthodox coach
horn, but they were eyed with disfavour by the Post
Office, which went so far as to forbid the guards on the
mail-coach to carry them. The key-bugles were, however,
inexpressibly dear to the guards' hearts, and not to be
thrown lightly aside for a mere whim of the authorities.
As a matter of fact, the prohibition gave added zest
to a performance on these instruments and, though the
guards so far conformed as to blow their long coach
horns decorously as they passed through the streets of

GUARDS 79

London, they were no sooner free from the metropolis
than they drew forth their cherished key-bugles and
commenced to play such classic airs as "The Flaxen-
headed Ploughboy," "Cherry Ripe," "Oh, Nanny!"
"Oh, dear, what can the matter be?" to their own
inexpressible satisfadlion.

Benson of the Union was a noted performer on the
key-bugle, which served him in good stead one day
when the coach broke down at Saxmundham. It hap-
pened that a conjurer about to give an entertainment was
at a loss to provide the music with which to distract the
attention of his audience whilst he performed various
necessary adjustments for the successful performance
of his tricks. He therefore came to Benson with the
request that he would come and bring his key-bugle and
supply the place of orchestra. Benson agreed, and the
entertainment was a complete success.

Benson was also a clever ventriloquist, and once
exercised his power for the mystification of two gentle-
men. The coach was waiting at the Peacock Inn,
Islington, when a gig with a dog tied beneath it drove
by. Suddenly the air was filled with the most hideous
sounds of a dog yapping and howling in the extremity of
pain. The gentlemen supposing they had run over the
animal jumped out of the gig, and were considerably
surprised to find the dog blandly unconscious of anything
untoward. They resumed their places in the gig, but
scarcely had the horse started when the melancholy
howls were renewed, and they again dismounted. The
dog wagged his tail, and the shouts of the onlookers

8o THE COACHING ERA

warned the gentlemen that they had been hoaxed, and
that the innocent looking guard had been exercising his
ventriloquistic powers for their benefit.

Another time Benson entered an inn in a state of
intense indignation declaring that some one had put a
pig in the boot of his coach. If any proof was needed
it was supplied by the agonized screams which proceeded
from the coach.

The rustics gathered round and gave many sugges-
tions as to how to secure the pig which was making a
perfect pandemonium in the boot. Benson enjoyed
their mystification till it was time to start, when he
opened the door and showed the astonished villagers
that the boot contained nothing but parcels and other
inanimate goods.

In times of stress or emergency guards were often
called upon to perform temporary repairs and for this
purpose they were provided with a tool-box, which was
in constant requisition when wheels came off, axle-
trees gave way, or poles broke, which they did with dis-
tressing frequency. As a rule the coach carried a spare
pole, but if it did not the guard on a stage-coach, who
was not bowed down with the responsibility of the mails,
had to get down and make the best job he could of it.
The passengers, hardened by experience, were resigned to
such contretemps and would settle down composedly to
a game of cards, whilst the guard with the help of a
commandeered sheep hurdle patched the broken pole
to the best of his ability.

The guards on the stage were expelled to render the

GUARDS 8i

coachman every possible assistance, from the mending
of a splintered pole to the putting on of the drag. The
latter performance was not altogether devoid of danger,
and one day Bayzand slipped and fell, catching his foot
in the roller bolt; when his cries for assistance were at
length heard he was extricated from his perilous position,
with one of his toes broken. He was taken to the Staple
Hotel at Witney, and a doctor came and put the matter
right, but the luckless guard was destined to prove the
trite maxim that misfortunes never come singly, for the
old woman deputed to attend on him administered the
dressing for his foot as internal medicine, and Bayzand's
career nearly came to an abrupt termination in con-
sequence.

A guard on every coach would seem an indispensable
adjunft, but they were often looked on more in the light
of a luxury than a necessity. A traveller from Ross
refused Bayzand his tip on the plea that on a day coach
he was a superfluity. The guard in question thought
unutterable things, but his spirits revived a little when
he discovered a bag belonging to the niggardly gentle-
man; if a guard was not needed it was clearly no place of
his to look after the luggage, and he promptly sent it off
to the receiving office.

Next day the passenger came In quest of his property

and was told where to go for it. The incident apparently

convinced him of the inadvisability of incurring the

enmity of the guard, for on his return journey he took a

seat next to him, and both tacitly ignoring their late

difference of opinion chatted pleasantly together, and
6

82 THE COACHING ERA

at the end of the journey he presented Bayzand with a
crown piece.

The Mazeppa occasionally had another passenger
whose liberality in the matter of tips astonished both
guard and coachman. This eccentric gentleman carried
his money loose in his coat-tail pocket, and when he
tipped on leaving the coach, he put his hand into his
pockets and drew out a handful of coins without looking
at them. On one occasion the coachman received three
sovereigns and a sixpence, and the guard six sovereigns
a shilling and a sixpence.

When things were lost during a coach journey pas-
sengers claimed compensation, and one day the horse-
keeper of the Bolt and Tun Inn informed Bayzand that
a gentleman from Cheltenham declared he had lost his
cloak when on the Mazeppa — a very fine cloak it was,
too, from the description given, "a rich camlet, lined
with real fur" and the value he put on it ^15, 15s.

Bayzand always made a point of taking the numbers of
the hackney-coaches, and he distinftiy remembered the
gentleman in question had gone off in No. 666 and,
moreover, his cloak had gone with him, for the guard
recalled the fa(Sl that a tassel of it caught in the door as
it shut.

When the gentleman appeared clamouring for the
return of his cloak, or £15, 15s. in lieu thereof, he was
escorted to the receiving office by Bayzand and the
bookkeeper. Sure enough there was the cloak, but
how different from the owner's description! — shabby
and threadbare and not worth 15s.!

GUARDS 83

Bankers frequently entrusted the guards with im-
mense sums of money, and paid them at the rate of half
a crown a parcel, which, considering the responsibility
incurred, was by no means adequate remuneration.
Thieves were ever on the watch to intercept these
bankers' parcels if possible, and one gang accomplished
their design in a decidedly ingenious manner. They
were all men of prosperous and well-bred appearance, and
two of them booked seats inside the coach at the Swan
with Two Necks, and the others got in at Islington. They
left the coach at different places on the road, no sus-
picions were entertained that anything was wrong till
the coach arrived at Coventry, where a bank clerk was
waiting to receive the parcel which contained ;^300 in
gold and a bill of exchange for ^150. It was then dis-
covered that the inside passengers had cut out a panel
at the back of the coach, abstracted the banker's parcel,
and got clean away with it without anyone being the
wiser.

Bayzand was warned one day that an attempt would
be made to obtain a parcel he carried for a banker, which
information naturally threw him into a state of extreme
consternation. He eventually placed the parcel beneath
a seat where two elderly and blissfully unconscious old
ladies sat on it throughout the journey. Some suspicious
looking characters joined the coach at Gloucester, and
Bayzand had an anxious time of it till he reached London
and handed over the parcel to its rightful owners. After
this fright he demanded a higher rate of payment,
which, however, the bankers refused to allow, and

84 THE COACHING ERA

shortly after having occasion to send ;^5oo they entrusted
it to one of their clerks. He did not appear to be over-
whelmed with the responsibility, for he dismounted from
the coach at one of the changes, and it went on without
him. Soon after the guard heard the noise of furious
galloping, and the banker's clerk, white with fright,
dashed up on one of the leaders of the last stage with its
reins and traces still on.

"Where is my parcel?" gasped the clerk.

The guard disclaimed any knowledge of it, and the
terrified clerk scrambled on to the roof of the coach
in search of it, and to his intense relief discovered the bag
hanging on the rail of the coach, from which it would
have fallen in a few moments.

The guards were exposed to all weathers, but by
enveloping themselves in an extensive colledtion of coats
and waterproofs they managed to keep fairly dry them-
selves, but what annoyed them greatly was the fact
that the rain made their seat on the coach wet and
uncomfortable. William Bayzand, being of an ingenious
turn of mind, had a bright idea; he purchased a gridiron,
removed the hands, fixed it on his seat and strapped the
cushions on the top. By this means he was able to keep
his seat dry and comfortable, and the other guards from
the Bolt-in-Tun and Bull-in-Mouth yards adopted his
plan, and in honour of the inventor named it the
Mazeppa patent.

CHAPTER VI COACHING COMPETITION

THE early coaching days knew no such thing
as competition; the heavy cumbersome old
coaches went their own way, and took their
own time as it seemed best to them, secure
in the comfortable convidlion that however much the
public might grumble they had no redress. Dissatisfied
passengers could not then transfer their patronage to
"the opposition," and had either to make the best of
things as they were or remain at home.

The introduction of mail-coaches in 1784 altered this,
for they set a standard of perfe6lion heretofore undreamt
of, and in consequence the proprietors of the old stage-
coaches found their receipts dwindling with alarming
rapidity. Passengers naturally preferred to travel by a
conveyance which could be depended upon to arrive
at the scheduled time, and not at any indefinite hour
of the twenty-four as had hitherto been the leisurely
custom.

The coach proprietors, seeing these things and realizing
that they were inevitable, rose to the occasion and,
with the intention of giving the "go by" to the mails,
they built new and better constructed coaches, horsed
them with superior cattle, employed brisker coachmen,
and thoroughly reorganized their establishments.

The great disadvantage of the mails was that they
travelled chiefly by night, and the stage-coach pro-
prietors soon saw that if they put on the road a service of
fast day coaches, in speed and appointments equal to the

86 THE COACHING ERA

mails, they would make a bold and probably successful
bid for popularity.

In this supposition they were correft, and so great was
the rivalry and emulation, not only between the stages
and mails but among the different coaching yards, that
in consequence everything connedled with coaching
was brought to the highest state of perfeftion.

"Nimrod," the celebrated sporting writer, contri-
buted an article to the Quarterly Review for 1832, in
which he eulogized the improvements in coaching,
saying: "The fairy petted princes of The Arabian
Nights^ Entertainments were scarcely transported from
place to place with more facility or despatch, than
Englishmen are in a.d. 1832. From Liverpool to Man-
chester, thirty-six miles in an hour and a half! Surely
Daedalus is come amongst us again."

To instance some of the great advances, he then gives
the supposititious case of an old gentleman falling asleep
in 1742 and waking up suddenly in Piccadilly in 1832,
desirous of returning to his home at Exeter. Just then
up drives the Comet with its team of greys.

"You must be quick as lightning," says a loafer stand-
ing by, and though the old gentleman declares the
Comet is no stage-coach, but a private drag, he is shoved
into it, "having been three times assured that his luggage
is in the hind boot, and twice three times denied having
ocular demonstration of the fadf." He mistakes the
coachman for a gentleman and, when he has been cor-
rected, proceeds to expose his ignorance on other coach-
ing matters.

COACHING COMPETITION 87

The Comet arrives at Hounslow in five minutes under
the hour, and the old gentleman has pleasurable thoughts
of breakfast, but when he puts his head out of the
window, to call to the waiter, he is thrown back with a
jerk which renders him speechless. Recovering a little,
he inquires why they did not change horses at Hounslow.
His companion assured him they did — only one minute
allowed for so doing.

"You astonish me; but really I do not like to go so
fast," says the bewildered old gentleman of 1742.

"Oh, sir, we always spring them over these six miles.
It is what we call the hospital ground.'''' This alarming
phrase is presently interpreted: it intimates that horses
whose "backs are getting down instead of up in their
work," some "that won't hold an ounce downhill, or
draw an ounce up," others "that kick over the pole one
day and over the bars the next"; in short all the repro-
bates, styled in the road slang bokickers^ are sent to work
these six miles — because here they have nothing to do but
gallop."

The coach goes faster and faster as the "bokickers "
feel their legs, the coach rocks and the old gentleman is
convinced that the horses are running away. At Staines
he gets out of the coach to see how it is possible for
horses to be changed in one minute, instead of half an
hour, as in his young days. He has been positively
assured that the fresh team is a steady one, containing no
"bokickers," but when he sees a fine thoroughbred horse
led towards the coach with a twitch on his nose, he ex-
claims apprehensively: "Holloa, Mr. Horse-keeper, you

88 THE COACHING ERA

are not going to put an unruly horse in the coach?" The
man replies that it is "the quietest hanimal alive," but
the old gentleman is not much reassured, for he hears
the coachman say urgently: "Mind what you are about,
Bob, don't let him touch the roller bolt!"

The passengers take their seats. "Let 'em go, and
take care of yourselves," says the coachman, and the
"staid and steady team" start — "the near leader rears
right on end, and if the reins had not been yielded to him
at the instant he would have fallen backwards on the
head of the pole. The moment the twitch was taken from
the nose of the thoroughbred near wheeler, he drew
himself back to the extent of his pole chain on his fore-
legs stretched out before him — and then, like a lion
loosened from his toil, made a snatch at the coach that
would have broken two pairs of traces in 1742."

The old gentleman has one glimmer of comfort, he is
not asked to walk up the hills. Even that is shortlived,
for going down a hill the coach presses on the thorough-
bred, which annoys him so much that he breaks into a
gallop, the rest of the team join in, and away goes the
coach at a terrific rate, frightening the old gentleman
nearly out of his senses.

At Bagshot he gets out of the Comet with all possible
despatch, and declines to return to it at any price. He
recounts his harrowing experiences to the waiter, and
pathetically inquires if there is such a thing as a slow
coach left.

"Why, yes, sir," replies John, "we shall have the
Regulator down in an hour."

COACHING COMPETITION 89

The very thing, thinks the old man and sits down to
dinner.

When the Regulator arrives it is full inside, and the
old gentleman mounts to the roof, and off they go at a
steady pace, to the tune of "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace
bled" on the guard's key-bugle. All goes well till they
come to the "galloping ground," when the Regulator
takes exactly twenty-three minutes to do the five miles
and the coach, having a ton of luggage on the roof, rocks
and rolls like a ship at sea.

The driver of the Comet, on his return coach, met the
Regulator and thus described the unhappy situation of
his late passenger. "He was seated with his back to the
horses — his arms extended to each extremity of the
guard-irons, his teeth set grim as death and his eyes cast
downwards to the ground, thinking the less he saw of his
danger the better."

The lurching was awful and, when the Regulator
reached Hertford bridge, the old gentleman's nerves are
shattered, and he exclaims: "I will walk into Devon-
shire!"

Feeling, however, that his legs could not accomplish
this pedestrian feat, he inquired what it would cost to
"post" to Exeter. Twenty pounds is the reply. Too
much thinks the old gentleman, and is persuaded to give
the Quicksilver Mail a trial on the assurance that it does
not carry any luggage.

Now the Devonport Mail, commonly called the Quick-
silver, was one of the miracles of the road, is a mile an
hour faster than the Comet, and at least three miles

90 THE COACHING ERA

quicker than the Regulator, so the luckless old gentleman
is in a worse situation than ever; his hat and wig blow
off when he puts his head out of the window, to see if
the horses are running away, and he is whirled away
into Devonshire at a pace unprecedented in 1742.

The proprietors, at variance on most matters, all
agreed that Shakespeare erred very considerably in his
estimation as to the importance of nomenclature. A
rose might thrive equally well under the unpoetical
designation of onion; horticulture was not their province
and they would not dispute the assertion, but coaches
were a very different matter, and there was no doubt
that the names painted on them very materially in-
fluenced their reputation and the class of their customers.

This fail being indisputable, coach proprietors vied
with each other to invent names which should appeal
to the public, and indicate to a great degree the nature
of the coach, and the people it especially catered for.
Sportsmen would naturally choose to travel by coaches
whose very names caused their pulses to beat quicker,
and recalled the delights of field or turf, as The Berkeley
Hunt, The Beaufort Hunt, The Tally-ho, Hieover,
Hieaway, Hark Forward, Rover, Tantivy, Flying
Childers, Highmettled Racer, etc.

For the young bloods, whose nerves were good and
whose fetish was speed, there were the coaches whose
names indicated furious velocity: The Quicksilver,
Meteor, The Dart, The Vivid, The Highflier, The
Rocket, The Express, The Lightning, The Rapid,
The Telegraph, and The Alert.

COACHING COMPETITION 91

To the same class belonged those called after animals
renowned for swiftness of limb or wing: The Greyhound,
The Antelope, The Reindeer, The Stag, The Spread
Eagle, The Swallow, and so forth.

The very sound of such names would be enough to
terrify nervous old ladies and gentlemen nearly out of
their seven senses. But, as old ladies and gentlemen
formed no inconsiderable portion of travellers, they were
provided with steady going coaches such as The Life
Preserver, The Good Intent, The Accommodation,
The Reliance, and others with names equally solid or
respeftable.

For the loyally inclined there were The Star of
Brunswick, The Regent, The Royal Clarence, The Prince
of Wales, The Princess Charlotte, The Queen, and The
Roval William.

Soldiers and Patriots would be attracted by the names
of famous commanders and their viftories, such as The
Duke of Wellington, The Lord Nelson, The Rodney,
The Trafalgar.

Topical events were often utilized by astute pro-
prietors, and the excitement caused by the Balloon
ascents made that name a common one, whilst the ap-
pearance of a Comet in the sky gave rise to a number of
Comets on the road, and the introduction of railways
was responsible for such inappropriate titles as The
Railway, and The Steam Horse coaches.

Names instinct with bitter rivalry were The Spitfire
and The Vixen, which did their level best to run each
other off the North Road. The Retaliator threatened

92 THE COACHING ERA

darkly if opposed; the Defiance boldly challenged
competition; The Eclipse, arrogantly conscious of its
merits; The Fearless, secure in its own perfection; The
Magnet attradfed customers; The Argus so wideawake
that no subterfuge on the part of its opponent could
escape it; and The Peerless, which disdained the possi-
bility of a rival to its perfedlions.

Very different to these challenging names were those

.of coaches which pursued their own way and eschewed

competition, as The Live and Let Live, The Give and

Take, Economy without Monopoly, and others of like

import.

The names painted on the backs of the coaches were
by no means the only steps taken for their advertisement,
for when competition was so keen coach proprietors
were ever on the watch for some telling point that
would proclaim the superiority of their coaches, or pour
derision and ridicule on the opposition.

So fierce was the hatred and competition that existed,
that proprietors would go to extraordinary lengths in
their endeavour to drive a hated rival off the road, and
persist in their endeavour until one or both were ruined.

The first bait to catch travellers was to lower the
prices, and once two coaches started to do this there was
no knowing where they would end. When one of these
contests was in progress on the Bath and Cheltenham
Road, the fares descended from ^i, is. to 15s.; then with
a run to los., 7s. 6d., 5s., 2s. 6d. and is. Matters did not
stop even there, for neither of the coaches would give
way or come to a compromise, and one of them adver-

COACHING COMPETITION 93

tised its intention of carrying its passengers for nothing.
The other coach, not to be outdone, immediately
caused it to be noised abroad that not only would it take
passengers free, but give them a good dinner into the
bargain!

The usual way to settle rivalry was by trial of speed,
and, though coach proprietors publicly deplored this
dangerous custom, there is every reason to believe that
many of them secretly connived at it. The coachmen
openly gloried in it, and so jealous were they for the
reputation of their respeftive coaches that the very
sight of the opposition caused their blood to boil, and
race they would, despite innumerable Acts of Parliament,
and heedless of the safety of their unhappy passengers.

Away would go the coach at a gallop, grazing corners,
careering down hills at breakneck speed, whilst the
passengers clung despairingly to their seats, and threa-
tened to report everything and everybody if they ever
got safely to their destination, which, however, they
entertained very little hope of doing. The coachman
and guard were deaf to all entreaties, the latter far too
occupied in playing "See the Conquering Hero Comes,"
whilst the former was conscious of nothing but the
opposition coach thundering in the rear, and a grim
determination not to allow it to pass at any price, even
if he had to follow the desperate example of the driver
of one on the Portsmouth road, who in order to prevent
the opposition coach passing pulled his own leaders sud-
denly across the road in front of it.

Anything for the honour of the coach was the old

94 THE COACHING ERA

coachman's motto, so that it is little wonder that
accidents became distressingly frequent and the news-
papers contained harrowing accounts, of which the
following taken from the Oxford Journal for July 26th,
1 817, is a typical example:

"On Thursday last Spencer's opposition Gloucester
coach, on its way to London, was overturned near
Burford, by which Mr. Thomas Heath of this city had
his leg so dreadfully fraftured as to be obliged to suffer
amputation. There were four inside and three outside
passengers, most of whom were severely bruised; and
the coachman was left in a dangerous state.

"We cannot deprecate in too strong terms the present
infamous practice of coaches racing each other, by which
the lives of the passengers are put in imminent danger,
merely from the caprice of the drivers. The above coach
was going at the rate of twelve miles an hour."

May-Day was the great time for racing and trials of
speed, and by tacit agreement rules and penalties were
suspended, it being understood that passengers who were
foolhardy enough to get on a coach on May-Day did so
at their own peril. The coaches, done up in honour of
the occasion, were brilliant with red, yellow, blue, and
green paint, or whatever happened to be their pre-
dominant colour, for, unlike the mails, the stages were
not uniform in shape or design, but painted and decked
out according to the fancy of their proprietors.

On May-Day, then, the stage-coaches appeared in all
their glory, with horses groomed to perfection, resplen-
dent in new sets of brown harness and embroidered

^, =^^

o ^

•^

COACHING COMPETITION 95

saddle-cloths, whilst the stable-boys decorated them
with rosettes and arches of flowers over their heads.
Coachmen and guards cut a brave dash in new scarlet
coats, white breeches, top boots, white hats, and wearing
large bouquets of flowers. The coachmen had their whips
tied with coloured ribbons, and the guards' bugles were
equally gay. Festoons of evergreens and flowers hung
down the sides of the coach, and gaily coloured arches
spanned the luggage on the roof.

The villages on the different roads had a merry time
of it when the May-Day coaches raced on their way
enveloped in clouds of dust, as they bravely endeavoured
to break all records in the matter of speed.

One of the most famous May-Day feasts was the race
between the Age and the Royal William which for a long
time ran in opposition on the Oxford Road. So keen was
the rivalry, and so thoroughly did the different horse-
keepers enter into the quarrel, that the whole length of
the road was impregnated with the question of their
superiority. One of the ostlers of the Age arranged a
string of stable buckets across the road with the avowed
intention of delaying the Royal William. The Koyal
William, however, was not going to be stopped by a
miserable device of the opposition, and when Major
Fane, an amateur driving at the time, saw the array of
buckets designed for his undoing, he gathered his team
together, put them at a gallop, and charged straight for
the obstacle, cleared them in safety and went on tri-
umphant, leaving the Age buckets a mass of splinters on
the road.

96 THE COACHING ERA

The two coaches left Oxford at 1 1 o'clock and were due
in London at 4.30, but the Age usually managed to beat
its rival by a few minutes. This so weighed on the soul
of William Snowden of the Royal William that he
determined when May-Day came he would get the better
of his rival. Accordingly on April 30th, 1834, ^^ S^^^
stringent orders to the horse-keepers down the road to
have everything in readiness so that there might be no
let or hindrance to his design of beating the Age all to
nothing. It happened that the plan leaked out, and
came to the ears of Joe Tollit, the coachman of the Age,
who wasn't going to have his coach beaten if he knew
anything about it, and he laid his plans accordingly.

The eventful morning came, and the Royal William
left the Golden Cross at Oxford with four browns, whilst
the Age started from the Vine Hotel in the High Street
with a mixed team. The two coaches tore along the
Oxford Road to the accompaniment of various martial
airs on the key-bugles of their respe6live guards.

Joe Tollit on the Age won, getting into London at
2.40, thus doing the fifty-four miles in three hours and
forty minutes: "I was just over two hours going to
Wycombe, leaving that place exactly at i o'clock, and
I hour 40 minutes going from Wycombe to London.
The Old Blenheim coach left the Star Hotel at 9 o'clock,
and we passed it at Gerrard's Cross twenty miles from
London, and though we had to wait at Uxbridge for
the horses were not harnessed, and at Acton I had to
drive the same team back to town that had just come
down, and had to help harness them. I had a lady just

COACHING COMPETITION 97

behind me, and I asked her when at Netting Hill if she
felt at all alarmed, and she said not in the least, her only
fear was that her friends would not be at the Bell and
Crown, Holborn, to meet her. This turned out to be the
case, so I put her into a growler and sent her home.
Sir Henry Peyton — of four-in-hand renown — met James
Castle, the driver of the Blenheim in Oxford Street,
and said: 'Well, what's become of the Age and Royal
William; I thought they were to be in town before you
to-day?' 'Well,' he said, 'so they are, I should think, for
they passed me while I was changing horses at Gerrard's
Cross, and I have not seen them since, and if they have
not had a jolly good dinner before this time they have
been very idle.'"

The famous Shrewsbury coach. The Wonder, con-
sidered the last word in coaching perfeftion, was the
darling of its proprietors, and the wonder and envy of all
other coach proprietors. In due time a presumptuous
rival, named the Nimrod, was put on the road to compete
with this coaching paragon. The proprietors of the
Wonder would not allow it to imperil its precious
reputation by engaging in such a vulgar performance
as racing, but the very idea of its being eclipsed by the
Nimrod was unthinkable. They sought a way out of the
difficulty by putting another coach called the Stag on
the road, whose avowed intention was to compete with,
and beat the presumptuous Nimrod. For a year these
two coaches raced daily at headlong speed, whilst the
Wonder continued its accustomed pace, and attained
such a reputation for accuracy that the people along the
7

98 THE COACHING ERA

road were accustomed to set their watches by it. At
the end of the year the Stag was taken off, having
accomplished its purpose and run the Nimrod off the
road.

So dearly did the old coachmen love a race that, if
they could not pit themselves against the opposition,
they were perfeftly ready to make a trial of speed with
anyone of a sporting tendency, and many wagers were
laid on horses and ponies backed to race coaches for
certain defined distances. The York mail came to grief
during one of these contests, for the coachman was so
determined to beat the horseman in question that he
lost all sense of prudence in his excitement and turned
round a corner so sharply that the coach heeled over.
One of the passengers was killed, and the others all
seriously injured.

Such races were, no doubt, abhorrent to travellers
not possessed of sporting instincts, but there were some
trials of speed which, by their novelty, afforded coach
passengers considerable amusement and entertainment.
A miniature four-in-hand, which raced and often beat
the coaches on the Great North Road, belonged to a
cripple known as "Old Lai," and consisted of a light
cart or trolly drawn by four foxhounds. A cripple boy
at East Grinstead with his unicorn team of bulldogs
frequently competed with the Brighton coaches. An
even more original turn-out was owned by a farmer
near St. Albans, for he used to trot briskly along the
road in a cart drawn by four large hogs. One gentleman
who witnessed the uncommon spectacle was so struck

COACHING COMPETITION 99

with it that he offered ^50 for the turn-out, but the
farmer rejedfed it with scorn.

The greatly increased rate of speed at which the
coaches ran during the golden age of coaching, naturally
told considerably on the horses employed. Although
the stages were materially shortened, and the number of
horses used on a fast coach was at the rate of one for every
mile of the distance, it was not often that the period
of their usefulness exceeded three years. This did not
necessarily mean that they were worn out, but that they
were no longer equal to the pace the coach was timed at,
and which had to be kept accurately year in and year out,
irrespe6five of the state of the roads and weather. The
horseson theslower coacheslastedproportionatelylonger,
for it was the pace that told on them; one coach pro-
prietor in the provinces had a mare who went a hundred
miles a week in his coach for fourteen years, and at the
end of that time was still considered the best stager on
the road.

The coach horses were well fed and cared for, and the
proprietors vied with each other as to who should
possess the best teams, especially those used for the first
stage out of London. The middle ground was not so well
horsed, and there was often considerable difficulty to
find coachmen willing to drive over those stages, where
they were often hard put to it to keep time with teams
possessing among them almost every vice to which equine
flesh is heir. The proverbial "Three blind 'uns and a
bolter," was by no means a mere fallacy, as likewise the
coachman's soothing remark that "there was only one

100 THE COACHING ERA

eye between them," hy which he inferred that all four
horses were blind, and the task of keeping them on the
road depended entirely on himself; and keeping the
road on a dark night was none too easy at any time.

The value of a picked team often ran into three figures,
but the average price of an ordinary coach horse was £2^,
and horses of all kinds, sorts, and conditions found their
way into the coachyards, without much reference as
to their adaptability for their new profession. Anything
that could hold back was considered satisfactory for a
wheeler, whilst an animal that would keep out of the way
of the bars did for a leader. Possessing either of these
qualifications, any horse could be made to run in a
coach, even if inclined to jib, shy, bolt, or otherwise
misbehave themselves. The new arrivals often objedled
strenuously to the service expedled of them, and showed
their disapproval, to the no little alarm of the passengers,
who watched with feelings of extreme apprehension the
trial of wills between horse and driver. Usually the man
won, for the old coachmen were first-rate whips, and
after a fierce struggle against overwhelming odds the
most refra6lory horse eventually settled down to his
work.

There was one horse, however, who drove coachmen
and contra£lors innumerable to the verge of despair.
His method was one of dignified simplicity; he permitted
himself to be harnessed, went up to the coach like a lamb,
and then when the rugs were pulled off, the ostlers stood
away, and the coachmen gave him the office to start, he
deliberately lay down. Coachmen swore, guards raved,

COACHING COMPETITION loi

ostlers became hysterical with rage, onlookers gave
gratuitous advice, and had it hurled back in their faces
with opprobrious epithets. The only unmoved person in
the general pandemonium was the chief performer who
flatly refused to move for anything or anybody until he
was unfastened from the coach, then he at once got up
and returned in triumph to his stable.

This horse's eccentricity was so well known that once
purchased it was by no means easy to dispose of him,
and he travelled about from one part of the country to
another. He got into Mr. Costar's stables at Oxford, de-
feated all his coachmen and was ordered to be sold. His
purchaser, a coachman named Cross, bought the horse
for j^io, and as he was perfedly sound, only six years old,
and in appearance well worth ^^35, he felt pretty sure
that he was possessed of a shady past. When he had paid
the money down for his new purchase, he was speedily
informed that as a coach horse he was useless as go in
harness he would not.

Cross very soon found out that report spoke only too
true, for when the horse was harnessed he instantly
lay down in the Cornmarket at Oxford and refused to
move. Cross determined he would get the better of him
somehow and, in pursuance of a plan he had formed, he
obtained some straw and strewed it round the horse. If
the animal imagined this was a delicate attention he was
soon undeceived, for the coachman's next adl was to
set light to the straw. The horse lay till he was singed,
then with a bound he got to his feet, leapt over the burn-
ing straw, and immediately threw himself down again.

I02 THE COACHING ERA

Cross, determined not to be beaten, took his re-
fra£lory charge down to the canal and had him harnessed
behind two other horses who were towing a barge. The
new pupil immediately threw himself down, but as the
other horses kept steadily on he was unable to remain
there, and in his struggles to retain his favourite position
he eventually rolled off the towing-path and into the
water. Finding that if he adhered to his usual plan
of lying down he would assuredly be drowned, he
scrambled back on to the towing-path, and it was a
surprised and bitterly disillusioned horse who walked
sedately behind the other two, and did his fair share of
the work for a couple of miles. The ordeal by fire and
water made a reformed charadler of him, and he became a
coach horse of most exemplary charadler, to the intense
astonishment of all coachmen and stable-boys who had
previously been honoured with his acquaintance.

Hunters generally worked well in a coach, but their
ruling passion was too strong to be denied, and the
sound of a huntsman's horn caused them to break out
into instant rebellion. A leader in the Dover coach
completely lost her head when hounds crossed the road
in front of her, and so bitterly did she feel the indignity
of her position, and so determined was she to follow the
hunt at all costs, that she instantly set to work to kick
herself free of coach, harness, and companions, and would
undoubtedly have accomplished her obje6l and overset
the coach if the guard and passengers had not managed
to jump down and release her.

In 1807 the Liverpool mail was changing horses at

COACHING COMPETITION 103

an inn in Cheshire, when Sir Peter Warburton's hounds
came by in full cry. The four horses which had just been
taken out of the coach were standing unattended, and
with one consent they instantly started in pursuit of
hounds, their harness clattering behind them. One of
them, a blood mare, took the first whip for her pilot,
and for two hours followed closely in his wake across
country. At the end of the run, the enterprising coach
horses were recaptured, seeming none the worse for their
adventure, and performed their stage back to Congleton
the same evening.

CHAPTER VII COACH PROPRIETORS

THE men who horsed the coaches were a power
in the land in days gone by; especially was this
so in London where the coaching contrafts
were held by a few men who owned enormous
stables, and amassed huge fortunes.

Mr. William Chaplin, eventually M.P. for SaHsbury,
was the largest coach proprietor. His chief yard was at
The Swan with Two Necks in Lad Lane, though he also
owned The Spread Eagle, The Cross Keys, and The
White Horse in Fetter Lane. After the fashion of the
time, his coaches bore the symbol of the inn from which
they started on their hind boot or door panel, and were
in colour red and black.

Chaplin, being the son of a coach proprietor, in a
small way of business, knew all the ins and outs of the
road, and especially dangers and temptations which beset
the coaching fraternity — a knowledge which proved no
inconsiderable asset for a coach proprietor. When things
went wrong, he could usually make a shrewd guess at the
cause, and so unerringly did he put his finger on their
weak spots that his coachmen nicknamed him "Billy bite
'em sly," which, though disrespedlful, was a subtle testi-
mony to his proficiency.

Chaplin possessed a bland, suave temperament, and
a gift of sarcasm biting and defined; a talent greatly
resented by the coachmen, who would have listened
serenely to a string of profanities, but writhed uneasily
under Chaplin's pointed satire.

104

COACH PROPRIETORS 105

Ostlers down the road stole the oats when they
could; some did so by the device of a hole cut in the
manger and a can adroitly arranged to catch the corn^'as
it fell; others, more daring, manipulated the lock^of Jthe
corn-bin. Could anything be more nerve-shattering
than the following experience which happened to one
of the fraternity? Going to the stable one night, as was
his custom, with lantern and bag, he opened the lid of
the corn-bin, and put in his hand to take out the oats.
Instead, he was confronted with the horrid spedtacle of
"Billy bite 'em sly" curled up as comfortable as possible,
who reared himself up in the corn-bin as if in a pulpit,
and gave tongue with such appalling politeness that the
ostler's blood fairly froze within him.

Chaplin had a keen sense of humour which was not
always appreciated, although his toast at the annual
coach dinner passed into an historic joke. He loyally
proposed the health of the Sovereign, and then lifted his
glass with the enigmatical remark: "Success to Shoulder-
ing— but do it well."

The first occasion on which he proposed this novel
toast no doubt caused the assembled coachmen some
uneasiness, and made them look askance at one another,
wondering where "Billy bite 'em sly" meant to have
them. Shouldering was an old-established custom, but
coach proprietors were expefted to feign ignorance of it.
At any rate it was a subject only to be referred to between
master and man, under most distressing circumstances,
as when the latter had "shouldered" an informer un-
awares, or fallen vidim to a too zealous "pikeman."

io6 THE COACHING ERA

As a matter of fadl the coach proprietors were per-
fectly cognizant of the fa6l that coachmen and guards
were in the habit of sharing the short fares between
them, and, except when the matter was carried to
exorbitant lengths, they found it good poHcy to ignore
it, so that ChapHn meant to imply that his coachmen
might shoulder in moderation, but were not to do it
so flagrantly that he would be obliged to take notice
of it.

"What have you got in the boot, guard?" inquired the
proprietor of a northern coach whose suspicions had been
aroused. "Only a couple of guinea-pigs, sir," replied the
guard, climbing up into his place as the coachman
made a hasty start. "Stop!" called the proprietor, "I
have never seen a guinea-pig." He opened the boot, and
beheld, not a couple of small rodents, but two soldiers,
ineffe6lually trying to hide themselves under the straw.
"Well, they are two beauties," said the proprietor.
"Where did you bring them from, guard?" The em-
barrassed guard named the place, and the proprietor
entered the names of the "guinea-pigs" on the way-bill.
The guard did not wish to see them there, neither did
the coachman, for they had intended to pocket the fares
between them.

Chaplin horsed fourteen of the mails out of town, and
his best known coaches were The Liverpool Red Rover,
The Machester Defiance, and the famous Tantivy in
praise of which the Hon. R. E. Egerton-Warburton
wrote the following song:

COACH PROPRIETORS 107

The Tantivy Trot

Here's to the old ones, of four-in-hand fame,
Harrison, Peyton, and Ward, Sir;
Here's to the fast ones that after them came,
Ford and the Lancashire Lord, Sir.

Let the steam pot

Hiss till it's hot.
Give me the speed of the Tantivy Trot.

Here's to the team. Sir, all harnessed to start,
Brilliant in Brummagen leather;
Here's to the vi^aggoner skilled in his art,
Coupling the cattle together.
Let the steam pot, etc.

Here's to the dear little damsels within
Here's to the swell on the top. Sir;
Here's to the music on three feet of tin,
And here's to the tapering crop. Sir.
Let the steam pot, etc.

Here's to the shape that is shown the near side,
Here's to the blood on the off. Sir,
Limbs with no check to their freedom of stride!
Wind without whistle or cough, Sir.
Let the steam pot, etc.

Here's to the arm that can hold 'em when gone
Still to a gallop inclined, Sir;
Heads in the front with no bearing reins on!
Tails with no cruppers behind. Sir.
Let the steam pot, etc.

io8 THE COACHING ERA

Here's to the dragsmen I've dragged into song,
Salisbury, Mountain and Co,, Sir;
Here's to the Cracknell who cracks them along,
Five twenty-fives at a go. Sir.
Let the steam pot, etc.

Here's to Mac Adam, the mac of all macs,
Here's to the road we ne'er tire on;
Let me but roll o'er the granite he cracks,
Ride ye who like it on iron.

Let the steam pot

Hiss till it's hot.
Give me the speed of the Tantivy Trot.

Chaplin was shrewd and far-seeing and, realizing that
the railways would oust the coaches, laid his plans
accordingly. He saw that to attempt to fight the rail-
ways was useless, whilst to make friends with them in
their infancy would mean much profit in the future.
Eventually he sold out of his coaching business and in-
vested his money in railway stock, which brought good
return, and before his death he became chairman of the
London and South Western Railway.

Benjamin Worthy Home of the Golden Crosswas a man
of very different temperament to Chaplin, for he was
nervous and irritable, and had a morbid hatred of seeing
anyone doing better than himself. His chief hobby
appears to have been opposition, for he was continually
trying to run some coach or other off the road, and with
such extreme bitterness did he enter into these com-
petitions that he would go to any lengths to ruin rival
proprietors. Once he went down the road over night and

COACH PROPRIETORS 109

brought up all the horses at a certain stage, so that next
day the rival coach was brought to an ignominious stop
there, while his own coach raced gaily by, shouting
derision after the manner of opposition coaches.

Edward Sherman, another London coach proprietor,
built up a large business by his own energy and per-
severance, for being under the prevailing impression
that London streets were paved with gold he came to
town on foot, and thought himself lucky to earn 12s. a
week. He saved his money and invested it wisely, but
owed his success to another species of speculation no less
worldly-wise, for he married three wealthy old ladies in
succession. After being left thrice a widower, he possessed
a substantial fortune and rebuilt the Bull and Mouth Inn.
He was the first to introduce the fast, long distance day
coaches, of which the most famous were the Shrewsbury
Wonder, and the Manchester Telegraph, which did
actually accomplish its 186 miles in one day by starting
from London at five o'clock in the morning, and reaching
Manchester at eleven at night.

Sherman shut his eyes resolutely to the fafl that the
railways would destroy the coaches. Other and wiser
proprietors took their coaches off the roads as the rail-
ways advanced to completion, but Sherman fought them
stubbornly and lost several thousand pounds before he
gave up the unequal contest.

Thomas Fagg, another coach proprietor and landlord
of the Bell and Crown, was an immense admirer of the
Duke of Wellington, and indeed thought of changing the
name of his hotel to ^he Wellington. He confided this

no THE COACHING ERA

projedl to the "Iron Duke," who squashed it instantly,

and told Fagg not to "be a d fool." A fool Fagg was

not by any means, but, like many worthy men, blinded
by hero-worship.

His choice of a coachman proves that he was possessed
of sound common sense. To him came a swell dragsman
with an inflated sense of his own importance. Fagg put
the usual questions as to qualifications, and ended by
asking if the applicant had ever had an accident when
driving a coach. The dragsman felt insulted by the very
suggestion. No, he had never had an accident; didn't
know what the word meant. If he thought thus to
impress Fagg he was woefully mistaken, for that worthy
instantly told him to go about his own business, saying:
"You're no good to me, then, my coaches are always being
upset, and if you've never had a accident how the devil
would you know how to get a coach on her legs again?"

Mrs. Nelson and Mrs. Mountain were two redoubtable
women of great coaching repute, proprietresses of flour-
ishing inns, and possessing large stables. Mrs. Nelson was
especially solicitous for the comfort of her coachmen and
guards, at the Bull Inn a comfortable room was set
apart for their use, where they dined on the best the
house afforded. In this san6tum where none unconnected
with the road might enter, the company talked "shop"
whole-heartedly and without reproach. Coachmen re-
counted their adventures on the road, and addressed one
another, not by personal names, but after the manner of
the peerage, as Oxford, Salisbury, Bristol, York, and other
towns of their coaches' destinations,

COACH PROPRIETORS iii

Of the many large coaching establishments in the
provinces Costar's and Waddell's of Oxford was among
the best known. Old Costar was a noted character and,
like Fagg, particular as to his coachmen, for when John
Stacey, one of the four brothers of that name, applied
to him for a place Costar looked him over critically,
remarking to a friend that the young man was too much
of a dandy for him. Jack altered his attire but he
was never employed by Costar, although his brother,
William, for some time drove the Alert in turn with
Black Will.

Costar was a man of resource, and not easy to get the
better of. One year when farm produce was scarce and
dear, a farmer offered the coach proprietor a hundred
quarters of oats for three hundred guineas. Costar bid
pounds, but the farmer thinking he would be unable to
buy elsewhere refused. Costar was so incensed that
he at once ordered out his favourite black mare and
drove down to the docks at Gloucester, where he bought
a load of Irish oats, of excellent quality and at half the
price. The farmer's short-sighted policy lost him his
best customer, for Costar never bought from him again.

Like Chaplin, Costar believed in personal supervision,
and did not leave his business in the hands of hirelings,
but when things went wrong he looked into the matter
himself. At one time John Bayzand, of the Southampton
Oxonian, complained that the team from the Chequers
Inn at Chilton pond seemed to have no life in them.
The horses were good ones, so Costar knew there must be
some reason for their being out of condition, and he at

112 THE COACHING ERA

once inquired if the oats and hay supplied were of fine
quality. The coachman replied that they were, first-
rate in fa6l; the hay came from a reliable farmer at
Dorchester, and, as for the oats, they were Mr. Costar's
own, and the coach carried a sack from Oxford every day.

Clearly the food suppHed was not at fault, but the
horses grew weaker, and the coachman's complaints more
urgent, so that Costar determined to go to Chilton pond
himself. Accordingly, he drove up to the Chequers Inn
one morning just after the coach had changed. He went
into the bar, had a chat with the landlord, and then
strolled casually round to the stables. In the yard he
stumbled on the solution of the puzzle, for his unfortu-
nate horses, still smoking from their journey, and with
their harness on, were wallowing in a dirty pond. The
horse-keeper who should have attended to them was
busily engaged in feeding six large hogs, and feedingthem,
moreover, on the horses' provender just brought up by
the coach. Costar restrained his temper and determined
to probe such iniquity to the depths.

"Good morning, young man," he remarked, "your pigs
look well. They seem to like a mixture of beans and
oats, though I never saw pigs fed with it before."

"Yes, sir," replied the young man. "They certainly
thrive on it."

He then drove his hogs back to their styes, bedded
them comfortably with what Mr. Costar shrewdly sus-
pedled was his straw and, without a thought of the un-
fortunate coach horses, went back to the bar for a drink.
When he had refreshed himself at his leisure, he came out

tij

-S

J.J

.-sj

■s

COACH PROPRIETORS 113

again and catching hold of the horses led them up the
yard.

"Whose horses are those?" inquired Mr. Costar mildly.

"They belong to old Costar of Oxford," was the reply.

"Oh, they do, do they!" thought "old Costar," and
followed them to their stables. There, to his chargin
he beheld his horses put into dirty stalls, without any
vestige of bedding, and with empty mangers. The man
then considered he had done his duty to "old Costar's"
horses, for he left them without any pretence of rubbing
them down, or even removing their harness.

Mr. Costar drove back to Oxford and straightway
consulted his solicitor, with the result that the horse-
keeper in Chequers Inn soon found himself in Reading
Gaol undergoing a sentence of twelve months' hard
labour.

In 1767 John Alder, a cooper of Abingdon, drew a
lottery prize of twenty thousand pounds. On hearing
the news he "supported himself with great Decency,"
and was so lavish in his benefactions, that his wife said
the money would be their ruin for her husband would
give away everything they had. To his friend Mr.
Blewitt, owner of the "Abingdon Machine," Alder pre-
sented a new coach. The delighted proprietor had a
pi6lure painted of it, with himself and his wife on the
box-seat. This painting now hangs on the staircase of
the Council Chamber at Abingdon.

CHAPTER VIII DOWN THE ROAD

A JOURNEY by coach was not a thing to
be undertaken lightly or unadvisedly, but
required due thought and deliberation before
paying a visit to the booking-office, and
securing a seat by the expedient of paying half the fare
in advance. When the intending passenger had thus
irretrievably committed himself, he returned home in
deep depression at the thought of what lay before him,
and evinced an hourly increasing solicitude as to the
state of the weather. Then, as now, that important
factor was never to be depended upon, whilst its in-
fluence on a coach journey was paramount; if it was fine
few things were more delightful; if, on the contrary, it
elefted to rain or snow nothing could equal it for misery
and discomfort.

The traveller who booked his seat in advance was
usually a fatalist, being firmly convinced that if he took
a place inside the coach the sun would blaze down so
that the four insides were nearly stifled with the heat,
whilst if he engaged a seat on the roof he was equally
certain to be drenched with rain, or frozen with cold;
unhappy alternatives which gave much food for thought.
The question of inside or out was in the latter coach-
ing days one of individual seledlion; earlier travellers did
not consider there was any choice in the matter. If they
had the smallest respe6l for themselves or their position
in society, they went inside as a matter of course. The

outside passengers who balanced themselves uneasily on

114

DOWN THE ROAD 115

the roof, and consumed oranges, shrimps, and other forms
of sustenance peculiar to the constitution of outside
passengers, were in the eyes of the exclusive "insides" a
species of pariah, whose very existence they would have
denied if it had not been so very forcibly demonstrated.

Such was the animosity of those within to those with-
out, that even when seats were added to the roof, and in
consequence a better class of people took to travelling
thereon, they could by no means be permitted to eat their
meals in the same room as the exclusive insides, who
would have suffered a severe shock at the mere proposi-
tion. So also, if the interior of a coach was only partially
filled and a drowned or frozen outsider besought per-
mission to come within, his admittance rested with the
"insides." If one of them with some stirrings of humanity
gave his consent, the "outsider" was placed next to him,
and for the remainder of the journey he was looked upon
as self-appointed keeper of an uncivilized being, for whose
good behaviour he was considered responsible.

To the schoolboys is due the credit of breaking down
this social barrier, for chiefly because it was forbidden,
and therefore doubly desirable, they discovered that the
outside of a coach was a far superior place to the inside.
Careful parents and masters booked places in the interior,
and bade their charges good-bye, with many admoni-
tions for their behaviour. These were listened to duti-
fully, and forgotten as soon as the coach turned the
corner, when the little rogues immediately scrambled on
to the roof of the coach.

This point of vantage afforded them unqualified joy,

ii6 THE COACHING ERA

and possessed so many advantages that one feels inclined
to pity the modern schoolboys who travel by the dull
monotony of railways, and miss what must have con-
stituted the most joyous part of their great-grandfathers'
holidays. The schoolboys evinced an intense interest
in the horses, listened with becoming reverence (not
accorded to their pastors and masters) to the words of
wisdom which were to be culled from the lips of that all-
important man, the coachman, scrambled up and down
at the changes, and chaffed the stable-boys and chamber-
maids, who laughed at their precocity. They knew not
the meaning of tedium, for they thoughtfully provided
themselves with pop-guns, peas, and other missiles,
for the confusion and undoing of all other users of the
road. When all else failed they could extraft rapturous
joy by throwing pennies through shop windows, and
shouting "fire" or "murder" at the top of their voices.

In Tom Brown's School Days, the guard of the Tally-ho
tells how the Rugby boys behaved going to and fro on
the coaches.

"Werry free with their cash is the young gent'm'n.
But, Lor' bless you, we gets into such rows all 'long the
road, what wi' their pea-shooters, and long whips, and
hollering, and upsetting every one as comes by; I'd a
sight sooner carry one or two on 'em, sir, as I may be a
carryin' of you now, than a coach-load. 'What do they
do with the pea-shooters?' inquires Tom. Do wi' 'em!
why, peppers every one's face as we comes near, 'cept
the young gals, and breaks windows wi' them too, some
on 'em shoots so hard. Now 'twas just here last June,
as we was a driving up the first-day boys, they was

DOWN THE ROAD 117

mendin' a quarter-mile of road, and there was a lot of
Irish chaps, reg'lar roughs, a breaking stones. As we
comes up, 'Now, boys,' says young gent on the box
(smart young fellow and desper't reckless) 'here's fun!
let the Pats have it about the ears,' 'God's sake, sir!' says
Bob (that's my mate the coachman), 'don't go for to shoot
at 'em, they'll knock us off the coach.' 'Damme, coachee,'
says young my lord, 'you ain't afraid; hoora, boys! let 'em
have it.' 'Hoora!' sings out the others, and fill their
mouths chock full of peas to last the whole line. Bob,
seeing as 'twas to come, knocks his hat over his eyes, hollers
to his 'osses, and shakes 'em up, and away we goes up to
the line of 'em, twenty miles an hour. The Pats begins to
hoora too, thinking it was a runaway, and first lot on 'em
stands grinnin' and wavin' their old hats as we comes
abreast on 'em, and then you'd ha' laughed to see how
took aback and choking savage they looked, when they
gets the peas a stinging all over 'em. But, bless you, the
laugh weren't all of our side, sir, by a long way. We was
going so fast, and they was so took aback, that they
didn't take what was up till we was half-way up the line.
Then 'twas, 'look out all,' surely. They howls all down
the line fit to frighten you, some on 'em runs arter us
and tries to clamber up behind, only we hits 'em over the
fingers and pulls their hands off: one as had had it very
sharp ad'ly runs right at the leaders, as though he'd
ketch 'em by the heads, only luck'ly for him he misses his
tip, and comes over a heap o' stones first. The rest pick up
stones, and gives it us right away till we gets out of shot,
the young gents holding out werry manful with the pea-
shooters and such stones as lodged on us, and a pretty
many there was too. Then Bob picks hisself up again,
and looks at young gent on box werry solemn. Bob'd
had a rum 'un in the ribs, which'd like to ha' knocked him
off the box, or made him drop the reins. Young gent on

ii8 THE COACHING ERA

box picks hisself up, and so does we all, and looks round
to count damage. Bob's head cut open and his hat gone,
'nother young gent's hat gone; mine knocked in at the
side, and not one on us as wasn't black and blue some-
wheres or other, most on 'em all over. Two pound ten
to pay for damage to paint, which they subscribed for
there and then, and give Bob and me an extra half-
sovereign each; but I wouldn't go down that line again
not for twenty half-sovereigns."

In due time the schoolboys grew up, and the coachmen
who had driven them to Eton or Rugby for many years,
and treated them with extensive patronage, took to
touching their hats and calling them "Sir," when with
lordly arrogance they once more travelled by coach, not
as boys any longer, but men of one of the Universities.
Their partiality for the outside still remained, though
they ceased to think of it as a vantage ground for pea-
shooting.

"The air, the freedom of prospeft, the proximity to
the horses, the elevation of seat — these were what we
required; but, above all, the certain anticipation of pur-
chasing occasional opportunities of driving," wrote
De Quincey describing the struggle between inclination
and convention which exercised the feelings of "young
Oxford," who, though detesting the inside of the coach,
yet smarted under the stigma which attached to all
"outsiders." "We, the most aristocratic of people, who
were addidled to the pradlice of looking down supercili-
ously even upon the insides themselves as often very
questionable charafters — were we, by voluntarily going
outside, to court indignities?"

DOWN THE ROAD 119

The very idea was insupportable, and the Oxonians
settled the matter hy declaring that coach travellers had
long laboured under a misapprehension as to the relative
places on a coach, and that "the roof of the coach, which
hy some weak men had been called the attics, and hy
some the garrets, was in reality the drawing-room; in
which drawing-room the box was the chief ottoman or
sofa; whilst it appeared that the inside, which had been
traditionally regarded as the only room tenable by
gentlemen, was, in fadl, the coal-cellar or garrets in
disguise."

Did they require a precedent for their choice they
found it in the historic example of the Chinese Emperor,
who received a coach as a present from George III, a
gift which stirred his pigtailed subjects to the depths.
Anxious to create a sensation, and satisfy the curiosity
of his people the Emperor decided to make a state
progress. Horses were harnessed to the coach, and
everything was ready, when a difficulty arose, for as a
coach had never been used before no one knew the exa6l
place which the Emperor should occupy. The matter
was settled by traditional etiquette, it being clearly
proved that as the Emperor was far too exalted a per-
sonage to sit behind or below anybody, much less his
coachman, evidently the box-seat with its gorgeous
hammer-cloth was the place expressly designed for him.
The Emperor mounted the box with immense dignity,
but the imperial hands with their preposterous finger
nails could not touch anything so menial as the reins.

The coachman then desired to know where he was to

120 THE COACHING ERA

sit. The Court officials, scandalized at this presumption
of a low-born one daring to find fault with the Imperial
coach, bundled him inside with scant ceremony, gave
him the reins through the windows, and bade him
drive without more ado. The immediate result did not
popularize coaching in the Celestial Empire, and the
Emperor never again ventured his valuable life on such
an unsteady conveyance as the coach proved itself to be.

The young Oxonians and Cantabs accomplished their
revolution, and in time so completely had they re-
organized coaching etiquette that the outside of a
coach became the accredited place for gentlemen, and
the inside was left to the possession of crusty old
bachelors and fidgety old maids, who dozed, bumped
against each other with every jolt and became very short
in their tempers. We have it on the authority of Charles
Dickens that, "the tendency of mankind, when it falls
asleep in coaches, is to awake up cross, to find its legs in
the way and its corns an aggravation."

If a passenger complained of cramp, and expressed a
desire to stretch his legs, he invariably brought on him-
self the acid retort: "I pray, sir, you will do nothing of
the sort, for they are far too long already." And a lady
timidly inquiring, "I hope, sir, you won't be offended if
my head should happen to fall on your shoulder during
the night?" received the reply, "I should not be offended,
madam, but I should take steps to remove it." "Why,
how could you help it, sir?" "How could I help it?
Why, I always keep a penknife stuck up in my hand, and
if people choose to fall upon the point it's not my fault."

DOWN THE ROAD 121

Not the least inconvenience attendant on coaches
was the hours at which they started. The mails left
London at eight o'clock in the evening, and the outside
passengers on them dozed uncomfortably through the
night, and were in imminent danger of falling off.
Those inside were little better: "The gradual decline of
talk, the incipient snore, the rustling and shifting of legs
and night-caps, the cessation of other noises on the road,
the sound of the wind or rain, of the moist circuit of the
wheels, and of the time-beating tread of the horses —
all dispose the traveller who cannot sleep, to a double
sense of the little that is left him to observe. The coach
stops, the door opens, a rush of cold air announces the
demands and merits of the guard, who is taking his leave,
and is anxious to remember us. The door is clapped to
again; the sound of everything outside becomes dim;
and voices are heard knocking up the people of the inn,
and answered by issuing yawns and excuses. Wooden
shoes clog heavily about. The horses are heard swilling
the water out of tubs. All is still again, and some one in
the coach takes a long breath. The driver mounts and
we resume our way." ^

Such being the discomforts of night travelling, many
people preferred to go by the fast day coaches. These
often started at six o'clock in the morning, which neces-
sitated the traveller either sitting up all night, for fear of
oversleeping, or trusting to the doubtful possibility of a
servant waking him in time. When the latter alternative
was adhered to, and the domestic thundered persistently
1 Leigh Hunt on Coaching.

122 THE COACHING ERA

at the door in what was apparently the middle of the
night, his master waking suddenly from a deep sleep
grappled with him under the delusion that here was a
burglar, or jumped out of bed with the impression that
the house was on fire. When he thoroughly awoke to the
fa6t that such things were not, he groped wildly for his
tinder-box and, by its feebly inefficient aid, at length
evolved a light. This successfully accomplished, he was
seized with the convi6lion that he would miss the coach,
and hurried into his clothes with feverish haste, seized
his bag, rushed downstairs to a hackney-coach, not daring
to wait for breakfast laid uninvitingly in the shuttered
dining-room.

Charles Matthews, realizing that at five o'clock in the
morning the flesh has dominion over the spirit, impressed
on the Boots of a certain inn the importance of waking
him thoroughly. "If you see me still inclined to sleep,
don't leave the room; lift me out of the bed rather than
fail to rouse me."

"Yes, sir," said the boots, and arrived punctually at
five. He knocked at the door, receiving no response
entered the room, and did all he could to convince his
patron of the urgency of getting up at once. All to no
purpose; Matthews grunted sleepily, turned over, pulled
the clothes round his neck, and buried his face in the
pillow. Persuasion being useless. Boots carried out his
instru61:ions literally, picked the adlor up in his arms, and
disregarding his struggles and strong language, deposited
him on the floor, where he held him till he had his solemn
word for it that he would dress forthwith.

DOWN THE ROAD 123

As the intending passenger drove through the streets
they looked dismal and deserted, with here and there a
dissipated reveller, returning home unsteadily after a
"wet" night. At the inn yard, however, all was bustle
and confusion; porters and hangers-on fought for the
possession of his bag, whilst all "the cries of London"
seemed to be assembled for the express purpose of
making him buy oranges, pencils, brooms, rat-traps,
cucumbers, lavender, and various other commodities, all
equally inappropriate as preparation for a long coach
ride.

The coaches themselves were the great centre of
attraftion, for they were loading up with all speed and
expedition. Luggage was piled up on the roof as high
as Acts of Parliament permitted, and then covered
with tarpaulin and secured with stout straps. Smaller
articles innumerable were crammed into the boot, till
even the guard was bound to admit that it could hold no
more. Not to be outdone he tied bandboxes, game,
baskets of fish, and other light articles on to the hind
axle-tree, lamp irons, and all other available parts of
the coach.

The inevitable old lady would be heard fussing about
her luggage, being firmly of the impression that the
guard meant to defraud her of it:

"Now, ma'am, make haste, put your best leg foremost,
or you'll be just in time to be too late." "Wait a minute,
coachman, till I just see that my luggage is all right:
have you got the blue bandbox, Betty?" "Yes, ma'am."
"Where's the large corded trunk?" "John's bringing

124 THE COACHING ERA

that, ma'am." "And my two caps?" "They are in a
sheet of brown paper, ma'am." "Mind you don't
scrunch that." "I can put it in the lining of the coach,
they'll be safe enough there." "Put the sandwiches and
the bottle of ratifia water into the coach pocket, I may
want them. Coachman, be sure you don't put anything
on the top of that bandbox, or it will be squeezed into a
jelly, my best Leghorn bonnet is in it. Now, have you
got all my luggage? Well, just run over it, one bandbox,
one; in the boot, all right; one corded trunk, two; on the
top, all right; one pair of pattens, three; inside, all right;
one umbrella, four; inside, all right; one carpet-bag,
five; in the boot, all right; and one redicule in my
hand, six; all right, that will do."

Hackney-carriages hastened up and deposited sleepy
occupants, who regarded everything with a jaundiced
eye, for it required an exceptionally optimistic tempera-
ment to be cheerful at six o'clock on a dull morning, with
a place booked on the outside, and a journey of two or
three hundred miles ahead.

As the clock hand approached the hour, travellers
buttoned up their large and varied assortment of wraps
and coats, drew their shawls firmly over their ears and
took their seats. The coachman came out of his office
with his Way-bill, ran his eye over the team to see that
all was as it should be, took up the reins and mounted the
box.

"Right!" called the guard.

"Give 'em their heads. Bill," said the coachman.

The ostlers drew off the cloths, the horses leapt into
their collars, and away went the coach, rattling over the

DOWN THE ROAD 125

stones to the cheerful accompaniment of the guard's
horn.

If the weather decided to smile on them, the outside
passengers saw the sun rise, iris-tinted, through the grey
dawn, watched the white mists roll away over the fields,
and heard the choir of birds salute the coming of another
day. If, on the contrary, the elements were adverse,
they saw and heeded none of these things, but rammed
their hats down over their ears, buried their noses in their
shawls, and thought yearningly of home and creature
comforts.

As the end of the first stage drew near, the guard
sounded his horn with the twofold purpose of warning
the ostler to get the fresh team out, and the barmaid to
have ready those beverages which all travellers loved.
When they had drunk a glass of rum and milk, brandied
coffee, home-brewed ale, or whatever their fancy and
the state of the weather dictated, the passengers began
to take a more cheerful view of life.

Dinner soon became the loadstar of their existence,
for the majority of passengers travelled from necessity
not choice. They cared little for scenery and less for
horses, and the only really enjoyable part of a coach drive
was the appetite it gave them for meals. At no other
time could they boast of such genuine hunger, but, alas,
at no other time were they constrained to dine so
hurriedly! Twenty minutes or half an hour, the time
appointed, was in the eyes of travellers hopelessly in-
adequate. In summer, when they rushed from the
coach into the dining-room, and fell to with all possible

126 THE COACHING ERA

despatch, it was not sufficient; but, in winter, several
precious minutes had to be wasted taking off sodden
coats or thawing fingers so numb that they refused to
hold knives and forks, and etiquette forbade even "out-
siders" to use their fingers.

The dinners provided at the different inns varied in
quality, but were, as a rule, good, and the tables were
spread with a profusion of dainties calculated to make a
hungry man's mouth water. Waiters rushed frantically
about carrying hot dishes and hot drinks, whilst travellers
with their mouths full, and their eyes on the clock,
cursed them freely for being so slow. If the soup was
hot, and some innkeepers were darkly suspefted of
making it so on purpose, the passengers burnt their
mouths trying to swallow it, being in deadly fear they
would not have time to get to the meat course.

Alas, long before they had tasted half the good things,
the guard would appear with the hated announcement :
"Coach is ready, ladies and gentlemen." Passengers,
grumbling darkly but aware of their own impotence, and
the knowledge that if they were not in their places when
the coach started they would most assuredly be left
behind, sought desperately in their pockets for half-
crowns and sixpences to appease the waiters; hurried
into their greatcoats, and remounted the coach with
their hunger only half appeased.

Here is a contemporary account of a coach dinner:

"Stay dinner here, sir — fifteen minutes allowed — two
of them gone already — Dinner's on the table, here's the
beef, sir."

DOWN THE ROAD 127

"Yes, but where's the plate?"
'Fetch yon one directly — here's the plate."
"A plate — oh! but where's a knife and fork?"
"You shall have one direftly, sir. Now, sir, there your

are, all right."

"Well then, nowthank Heaven I can get a bit of peace."
"Time up, sir. Coach is just ready to start."
"Ah! but I shan't be ready to start for this half-hour."
"Can't wait, you ought to have done before this!"
"Done? Zounds! I've not begun — I wish you would

let me enjoy my mutton, without giving me so much of

your sauce with it."

"Three-and-sixpence a head, sir — trouble you for the

money."

"Three-and-sixpence! Why, I have scarcely had a

bite."

"No fault of ours, sir — it was there for you."

"A bite! By the powers, it's a bite altogether!"

Supper had to be consumed with equal celerity, and a
scene typical of such occasions is thus described by
Charles Matthews.

"The drowsy, reeling, unwilling passengers now
alighted to take their supper in the town of Ware, and I
question if ever a Flemish Tarboldolt or a Congress at
Rhastadt, displayed such a miscellaneous assemblage as
the room into which we were shown. Here were pas-
sengers from three different coaches, in the same room,
stopped for the same purpose. In one corner of the room
was a Miss, who declared it was the werry height of
wulgarity to eat suppers. In another was an elderly lady
and a little boy, who were regaling themselves with
biscuits and brandy and water, and an old man, with a
large hat, tied under his chin with a blue and white

128 THE COACHING ERA

pocket handkerchief. The guard of one of the coaches
came in to announce the expiration of time. Oh, for
the pen of Fielding or the pencil of Hogarth to describe
the scene that ensued! (Horn) "Come, ladies and
gentlemen, we're all ready — All ready, sir. What do you
mean by all ready (pulHng out his watch). We haven't
been here ten minutes — Where's the bill? — Vat, four
shilHngs for that ere Httle bit of weel, and that 'Foxhall'
slice of ham?— I never see'd such an imposition in all my
life: you treat people in stage-coaches more like convicts
than gentlefolks. If ever I come by this here coach again,
I'll bring my supper with me in my pocket — that's what
I'll do. — Waiter, where's my cane I laid in the chair? —
Talking of canes, where's my snuff-box I laid down on
the table? — And waiter, where's the fishing-rod I put in
that window?"

"Every man for himself, and the devil take the hinder-
most," was the maxim at a coach meal; manners were at
a premium, it being generally conceded that there was
no time to waste on civilities. George Field, desirous of
paying Constable the highest tribute in his power, and
to instance the artist's innate good breeding, did so by
saying, "He was a gentleman in a stage-coach, nay, more,
a gentleman at a stage-coach dinner."

Inexperienced travellers left the table more hungry
than when they sat down; old hands learnt to dine "in
the cracking of a whip" according to Leigh Hunt.
"They stick with their fork, they joint, they sliver, they
bolt. Legs and wings vanish before them like a dragon
before a knight-errant. But if one is not a clergyman or a
regular jolly fellow, one has no chance this way. To be
diffident or polite is fatal. It is a merit eagerly acknow-

DOWN THE ROAD 129

ledged, and as quickly set aside. At last you begin upon a
leg, and are called off."

Two sailors travelling on the far-famed Tantivy from
Birmingham to London, found the twenty minutes
allowed for dinner at the Star Hotel in Oxford all too
brief, but as they had paid for it they determined to have
it at all costs. When the guard blew his horn to announce
that the coach was on the point of starting, one of them
seized a loaf of bread, the other a fowl, and bolted for
the coach, closely pursued by the outraged waiter who
indignantly demanded what they were going to do with
the food.

"Eat 'em, mate," they replied with promptitude.

"But you are not allowed to take things off the table,"
protested the waiter. "Eat all you like but pocket none."

"Well then, you should give us time to do it in," said
the sailors not one whit ashamed. "We have paid for our
dinner and now we've got it, we mean to eat it." And
eat it they did with great enjoyment as the coach drove
through Oxford.

Innkeepers made a good thing of those unfinished
coach dinners, for which, moreover, they often charged
unduly high prices; as witness the apt rhyme that ran

thus:

" The famous Inn at Speedhamland
That stands below the hill,
May well be called the Pelican '
From its enormous bill."

Hard, indeed, was the lot of those travellers whose
purses were poorly lined, as the passengers on the Paul
9

130 THE COACHING ERA

Pry found to their cost. The coach officially dines at the
Star Hotel, Oxford, but it was the custom for those
who could not afford the high prices to resort to the
Bell, a cheaper place of entertainment. One night six
Welshmen entered that house, warmed themselves before
the fire, and frugally had one sixpenny tea between the
six of them. This roused the exceeding wrath of Mrs.
Charlton, the landlady, and she complained very bitterly
to Bayzand, who, shocked at such parsimony, promised
it should not occur again, for that he personally would
take steps to prevent it.

The following day eight Welsh passengers on the Paul
Pry came to the Bell and pursuant to Bayzand's in-
strudfions were shown into a room with a good fire, and
eight sixpenny teas ready on the table. The door was
then unostentatiously locked. Time passed quickly, and
presently the guard blew his horn to announce that the
coach was ready to start. The Welshmen seized their
hats and coats, and rushed to the door, which to their
consternation they found closed.

"Open the door!" they cried, hammering on it.

The guard blew another imperative blast on his horn
which threw the Welshmen into a frenzy.

"Open the door, open the door!" they shouted.

"It shall be opened when you have paid 4s. for your
tea," said Bayzand from the other side.

The Welshmen tried to compromise by offering one
and six, protesting that only three of them, had had tea.
That, however, was regarded as no excuse whatever:
tea for eight had been provided, and if they had not

DOWN THE ROAD 131

eaten it that was their own look-out; it was there and
they must pay for it. At last, fearing the coach would
leave them behind, the Welshmen paid for the teas they
had not eaten, and were released.

Miss Mitford, in Our Village, has left a vivid pen
picture of the discomforts to which coach travellers
were subje6l in times of extreme heat, or intense cold.

"I shall never forget the plight in which we met the
coach one evening in last August, full an hour after its
time, steeds and driver, carriage and passengers, all one
dust. The outsides, and the horses, and the coachman,
all seemed reduced to a torpid quietness, the resignation
of despair. They had left off trying to better their
condition, and taken refuge in a wise and patient hope-
lessness, bent to endure in silence the extremity of ill.
The six insides, on the contrary, were still fighting
against their fate, vainly struggling to ameliorate their
hapless destiny. They were visibly grumbling at the
weather, scolding at the dust, and heating themselves
like a furnace, by striving against the heat. How well I
remember the fat gentleman without his coat, who was
wiping his forehead, heaving up his wig, and certainly
uttering that English ejaculation, which, to our national
reproach, is the phrase of our language best known on the
continent. And that poor boy, red-hot, all in a flame,
whose mamma, having divested her own person of all
superfluous apparel, was trying to relieve his sufferings
by the removal of his neckerchief — an operation which
he resisted with all his might. How perfeftly I remember
him, as well as the pale girl who sat opposite, fanning
herself with her bonnet into an absolute fever! They
vanished after a while in their own dust; but I have
them all before my eyes at this moment, a companion

132 THE COACHING ERA

pidlure to Hogarth's 'Afternoon,' a standing lesson to
the grumblers at cold summers."

On a cold winter's day Miss Mitford met the coach
again and, though greatly changed, the situation of the
passenger was scarcely improved: "How much happier
the walkers look than the riders — especially the frost-
bitten gentleman, and the shivering lady with the
invisible face, sole passengers of that commodious
machine! Hooded, veiled and bonneted, as she is, one
sees from her attitude how miserable she would look
uncovered."

Fellow suffering engendered intimacy and, owing to
the close contact necessitated by the cramped space
assigned to them, it was impossible for coach travellers
to observe that icy demeanour, the haughty indifference
which seem inseparable from strangers in a railway
carriage.

People of all classes and dispositions found themselves
together in a coach, even the fiery and the fat learnt to
bear with each other; though, to be sure, fatness was a
thing hard to forgive. One can sympathize with the
stout gentleman, who, anxious to ensure comfort both
for himself and those who travelled with him, sent to
secure two seats, but, on arriving at the coachyard, found,
to his chagrin, that one was booked outside and the
other in.

The four inside and twelve outside passengers were
together for better or worse, and entirely under the
authority of the coachman and guard, which gave them
a sense of comradeship, so that when their first restraint

f -v.

< I

DOWN THE ROAD 133

had worn o£F they entered naturally into conversation.
This hail-fellow well-met spirit was not always approved
of; the great Duke of Wellington considered that one of
the greatest drawbacks to coaching was the nonsense
a traveller was constrained to listen to; whilst Felix
Mendelssohn, when on a coach journey in 1829, wrote to
his family that English conversation consisted of "walk-
ing, coals, supper, weather and Buonaparte."

Congenial companionship made all the difference
to the pleasure of the ride, and the passengers usually
assorted themselves accordingly; sporting folk, whose
chief interest lay in the horses, gravitated naturally to
the front of the coach, where they could talk "horse,"
and enjoy coaching to an extent not imaginable to the
folk behind who did not know an off wheeler from a
near leader.

Some friendships begun on a coach lasted through
life, others were less fortunate. A farmer's daughter,
travelling from Manchester to Margate, lent a too willing
ear to the blandishments of a fellow traveller. Believing
him prostrate with her charms, she smiled sweetly upon
him, and when they arrived in London asked him to
look after her luggage. He consented with alacrity,
bidding her wait for him in the coffee-room. The
young lady waited a long time and at length went in
search of her newly made friend, but, alas, he had
departed, and with him her luggage, so the disillusioned
young lady was obliged to give up all thoughts of Mar-
gate and take the next coach home.

Still more tragic was the state of the elderly ladies

134 THE COACHING ERA

who came up in the Dover stage in company with a
gentleman of most pleasing manners. So entirely did he
manage to ingratiate himself with them that they invited
him to come back to their house at Blackheath, and
take some refreshment before proceeding to Woolwich,
where he said he was going to join his regiment. The
stranger accepted willingly, and the newly made friends
passed a pleasant evening, playing whist far into the
night. Whether or no the stakes were high and the ladies
lost does not appear, but when at length the visitor got
up to take his leave he gracefully apologized for having
kept them up so late, adding that he must trouble them
to hand over all the money and portable valuables they
happened to have in the house. At first the ladies
laughed, thinking it a joke, but they very soon found
out it was far from being a laughing matter. The
stranger saw his request carried out to the very letter
before he departed with profuse thanks for their hos-
pitality, which he said Mr. Richard Turpin would always
remember.

Sometimes the coaches carried queer customers, and
Maria Edgeworth in one of her letters gives an amusing
account of Lord Longford's experiences. Getting into a
coach one night, he dozed comfortably till morning,
when to his consternation he discovered that the other
occupant, he had supposed a gentleman in a fur coat,
was in fadl a live bear. Another time he fancied himself
in company with a gouty gentleman of great importance
from the extreme deference and solicitude of the man
who accompanied him, but when the "gouty" traveller

DOWN THE ROAD 135

dismounted it was seen that his rugs covered fetters, and
he was a malefactor in irons accompanied by a Bow
Street Officer.

Prisoners were frequently conveyed from place to
place in coaches, and one of the entries in John Wesley's
diary runs: "Then I took coach for London, I was nobly
attended; behind the coach were ten convi6led felons,
loudly blaspheming and rattling their chains; by my side
sat a man with a loaded blunderbuss and another upon
the coach."

Other passengers were more fortunate, and the
delightful and inquisitive Mr. Samuel Pepys when he
returned from Cambridge on May 26th, 1667, had an
adventure after his own heart.

"Up by four o'clock; and by the time we were ready
and had eat, we were called to the coach, where about
six o'clock we set out, there being a man and two
women of one company, ordinary company and one
lady alone, that is tolerably handsome, and mighty well
spoken, whom I took great pleasure in talking to, and
did get her to read aloud in a book she was reading in the
coach, being the King's meditations; and then the boy
and I to sing, and about noon come to Bishop's Stortford,
to another house than that we were at the other day
and better used. And here I paid for the reckoning lis.,
we dining together, and pretty merry; and then set out
again, sleeping most part of the way, and got to Bishops-
gate street before eight o'clock, the waters being now
most of them down, and we avoiding the bad way in the
forest by a privy way which brought us to Hodsden."

Pepys considered his flirtation with the lady very

136 THE COACHING ERA

right and proper, but it was quite another state of
things when his wife made friends with a gentleman on
the coach, and invited him to come to supper. Pepys
worked himself up into a great state of mind about it,
and considered her conduct most reprehensible, but he
need not have distressed himself, for the stranger did not
come to the feast Elizabeth Pepys prepared for him,
and thereby passed into obscurity instead of being im-
mortalized in the pages of the famous diary.

Dr. Johnson's conversation showed to great advantage
in the Oxford coach on June 3rd, 1764. His companions
inside were the faithful Boswell and two American
ladies who had seen the names on the Way-bill and
were ecstatic at the prospedl of travelling with such a
celebrity. The elder could scarcely believe her good
fortune, for she leant across to Boswell and inquired in a
whisper: "Is this the great Dr. Johnson?"

Boswell, much gratified, replied that it was. The lady,
encouraged, imparted the news that her husband had
been a member of the American Congress. This gave
Boswell considerable alarm, for Dr. Johnson was
accustomed to state his views with complete disregard
of his listeners' feelings, and he had on a previous occa-
sion expressed his opinion of Americans thus strongly:
"Sir, they are a race of convi<5ls, and ought to be
thankful for anything we allow them short of hanging."

Boswell therefore besought the lady earnestly not to
betray her nationality, and then for their edification
proceeded to draw out his tame lion, the said lion
responding with the most gratifying result.

DOWN THE ROAD 137

The ladles were enchanted. "How he does talk!
Every sentence is an essay," said one.

The younger one amused herself with knotting, and
Dr. Johnson informed her that, next to mere idleness,
he considered knotting came in the scale of insignificance.

Idols are always prone to tumble down unexpectedly,
and the American ladies, who had listened spellbound
to the doftor's conversation, were considerably taken
aback when he flew into a passion because the coach
dinner was not to his liking. He roared at the waiter,
scolded him for the mutton, saying: "It is as bad as it
can be; it is ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-dressed."

On the return journey Dr. Johnson, being out of
temper, read Euripides and found fault with Boswell
for not looking out of the window and observing the
things on the road, saying: "If I had your eyes, sir, I
should count the passengers."

Except that it was heresy to accuse Dr. Johnson of
levity, it would almost seem that he was thinking of the
Road game. This game enjoyed great popularity, for
it served to while away the time, and gave sporting
charafters a chance to bet. One player took the right
side of the road, the other the left; dogs, pigs, cats,
sheep, magpies, donkeys and various other things likely
to be met with had their relative number of points, the
game being played till one of the competitors scored a
hundred, or whatever number had been previously
settled on.

"Being sworn in" at Highgate was another custom
which lightened the tedium of travel, and gave rise to

138 THE COACHING ERA

much fun and amusement. When the coaches stopped,
the question "Have you been sworn at Highgate?" was
put to the passengers. Those who had not, and confessed
to ignorance of the ceremony, were told:

"It's the custom of Highgate, that all who go through
Must be sworn on the horns, sir — and so, sir, must you."

The horns fixed on a long pole were then produced, and
the new-comers, instructed by the landlord of the inn
who acted as master of the ceremonies, took the fol-
lowing oath:

"Never to kiss the maid when he could get the mistress.
Never to eat brown bread when he could get white.
Never to drink small beer when he could get strong — unless
he prefer it."

CHAPTER IX THE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE

SO many and varied were the ills which beset the
path of the traveller that an astute author, one
William Kitchiner, M.D., conceived the brilliant
idea of writing The Traveller's Oracle, which
should set forth all the perils lying in wait down the
road, and show how to avoid or, at any rate, circumvent
them. Incidentally, the wily do6lor managed to intro-
duce puffs for his other literary wares, and to advertise
many commodities, for which service no doubt the
proprietors thereof paid him well.

The "Oracle" sounded a warning note from the very
beginning, for though Dr. Kitchiner admitted that
many travellers did aftually reach their destination
safely, yet such a happy termination by no means created
a precedent. The intending traveller's first duty there-
fore was to make his will, and bequeath all his earthly
possessions, so that, if despite the assistance of the
"Oracle," he succumbed by the way, his death should
occasion his relations as little inconvenience as possible.
Now mankind has always considered the making of
a will a lugubrious and disagreeable necessity, but Dr.
Kitchiner set out to prove that such was pure fallacy; if
approached in the proper spirit, will making was an
agreeable and pleasant pastime. To enjoy its delights to
the full, it was necessary to follow closely the rules set
forth in one of Dr. Kitchiner's own books entitled The
Pleasure of Making a Will, a copy of which should be
purchased forthwith.

139

140 THE COACHING ERA

His worldly affairs being settled, the traveller was
next instrufted how to go to the coach office and secure
a seat on a coach. Like most things in life, the author
proved there was a right and a wrong way of doing this
seemingly simple performance. If left to himself the
traveller was sure to choose the wrong one, but if he
abided diligently by the advice of the "Oracle" he
could rest assured that his actions and the coach office
would be all that was circumsped and corre6l.

With respeft to a seat on the outside of a coach. Dr.
Kitchiner forestalled Mr. Punch's advice famous to
those about to marry, and said "Don't," and said it,
moreover, most emphatically. If the traveller ignored
this advice, Dr. Kitchiner disclaimed all responsibility
for one so rash, but that he might not be altogether
abandoned he gave a few hints to alleviate the ills
which must inevitably ensue. He counselled the "out-
sider" to wear two shirts and two pairs of stockings; to
turn up the collar of his greatcoat, tie a handkerchief
round it, and to make sure he had plenty of straw to bury
his feet in.

Inside travellers received valuable advice which was
warranted to add to their comfort very materially.
They were told to change their position as much as
possible; to lean back then forward, or sideways, by
which contortions they might hope to avoid the cramp
which so unerringly seized the limbs of inside passengers.

If the rest of the company were surly, and insisted on
keeping both windows shut till the atmosphere of the
coach was unbearable, the traveller was to ponder well

1HE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE 141

in his mind whether he would prefer almost certain
suffocation, or the cost of three shillings, the price of a
pane of glass. If he made up his mind to risk the 3s.,
he was told to knock his stick "accidentally" against the
window so that the glass was shattered. He would then
get the fresh air for which his lungs craved, and test to
the full his fellow travellers' tempers.

Undoubtedly a night passed in a coach conduced
to irritability, as Dr. Syntax found when he decided
to leave his patient man Grizzle behind and return to
London by stage-coach:

"A horn now told the near approach

Of some convenient, rapid coach;

And soon a vehicle and four

Appear'd at the Red Lion door:

Into his place the Do6lor pounc'd:

The Coachman smack'd, and off they bounc'd.

The scene around was quite composing,

For his "companions all were dosing;

So he forsooth conceiv'd it best

To close his lids, and try to rest.

When the morn dawn'd, he turned an eye

Upon his slumb'ring company:

A red-faced man, who snor'd and snorted,

A lady, with both eyes distorted,

And a young Miss of pleasing mien,

With all the life of gay sixteen.

A sudden jolt their slumbers^^broke;

They started all, and all awoke;

When Surly-boots yawn'd wide, and spoke,

'We move,' said he, 'confounded slow!'

'La, Sir,' cried Miss, 'how fast we go!'

142 THE COACHING ERA

While Madam, with a smirking face,

Declar'd it was o' middling pace,

Tray, what think you, Sir?' — 'I agree,'

Said simp'ring Syntax, 'with all three.

Uphill, our course is rather slow,

Down hill, now merrily we go!

But when 'tis neither up nor down.

It is a middling pace, I own.'

*0 la!' cried Miss, 'the thought's so pretty!'

'O yes!' growled Red-face, 'very witty!'

The Lady said, 'If I can scan

The temper of the gentleman,

He's one of those, I have no doubt.

Who love to let his temper out.

Nor fails his thread-bare wit to play

On all who come within his way:

But we who — these stages roam,

And leave our coach-and-four at home,

Deserve our lot when thus we talk

With those who were ordain'd to walk.

And now, my niece, you see how wrong

It is to use your flippant tongue.

And chatter, as you're apt to do.

With anyone — the Lord knows who.'

Surly turn'd round, and friendly sleep

Soon o'er his senses 'gan to creep!

So Syntax thought he'd overlook

The embryo of his future book:

Thus all was silence till they came

To the great town we London name."

Dr. Kitchiner had a word to say anent companions
on a journey, counselling that such should not be chosen
lightly or with imperfect knowledge, for travelling was a
sure test of a man's character and idiosj^ncrasies. As a

THE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE 143

proof of which he pointed out how distressing would be
the case of one who set out on a long journey with a
casual acquaintance, and found out when it was too
late to change that his companion was possessed of an
insatiable curiosity that led him to examine everything
by the way, and rendered him indifferent to weather
and meals.

The "Oracle" laid down a few rules for general de-
portment and condud when travelling. "Wear a plain
Dress; upon no account display any Ring, Watch,
Trinkets, etc. nor assume any Airs of Consequence."
The traveller was to provide himself with pens, paper and
pencil, and make careful notes of everything he heard or
saw by the way. This was on no account to be neglected,
and it was implied, though not expressly stated, that
some awful penalty awaited those who failed to do so.

He was also to be liberal; both on his own account,
because he would most certainly be made uncomfortable
if he was not, and because it was the right and proper
thing to do; which caused Dr. Kitchiner to branch off
into a homily on the blessedness of giving. This diffuse
habit the worthy doftor was much addi6led to; on the
slightest pretext or provocation he would launch out
suddenly into such irrelevant topics as the observance
of the sabbath, or the bringing up of children.

Also he dearly loved to point a moral, and to give awful
instances of foolhardy men who had stepped aside
from the path of virtue, as defined for them in The
Traveller'' s Oracle, and were overwhelmed withMisasters
in consequence.

144 THE COACHING ERA

Washing, he considered, was good for both body and
soul, and after advising a sponge down every day, and
putting the feet into hot water at night to induce sleep,
he ends with the trite observation that "a clean skin
may be regarded as next in efhcacy to a clear Con-

science."

There was one awful speftre that haunted the pages of
the "Oracle," and lay in wait for the innocent traveller.
It leapt out at him in unexpected places, dragging before
his startled eyes the dour shapes of death and disease.
The name of this awful and menacing ghost was
Strange Beds.

There were other perils which beset the path of the
unwary, but if his steps were guided by the "Oracle"
they might be avoided; but, alas, even Dr. Kitchiner
could hold out no hope that the constant traveller could
escape unscathed from the dangers which beset un-
accustomed bedrooms and beds!

All the alleviation that Dr. Kitchiner's extensive
experience could suggest was generously placed at the
disposal of his readers, and he readily laid bare the most
cherished secrets of innkeepers, whose iniquity must
have made travellers aghast. Take the question of
sheets, for instance; could anything be more eledrifying
than to read this: "Clean sheets are nor remarkably
common at Common Inns, where, I am informed, that
the pradice is to take them from the Bed, sprinkle
them with Water, to fold them down, and put them in a
Press. When they are wanted again, they are, literally
speaking, shewn to the Fire, and in a reeking state laid

IHE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE 145

on the Bed. The Traveller is tired and sleepy, dreams of
that Pleasure or that business which brought him from
Home, and the remotest thing from his mind is, that
from the very repose M^hich he fancies has refreshed him
he has received the Rheumatism.'^'

To avoid these ills, "take your own Sheets, and promise
to pay a handsome consideration for the liberty of choos-
ing your Bed." Despite the lavish gratuity, it was more
than likely that the chambermaid would negleft to put
the warming-pan in the bed. In any case the traveller
was to try an infallible test given in the "Oracle";
namely, to take a tumbler and place it in the bed and
leave it there for a few minutes. If when he removed it,
it showed the faintest trace of moisture there could be
no doubt about it — the bed was damp!

When this was proved beyond doubt, he must instantly
rend the offending sheets from off the bed, and if he
was a careful traveller placing implicit reliance in the
"Oracle," to replace them with leather ones which he
carried about with him ready for such an emergency.
Otherwise, his only alternative was to sleep between the
blankets.

If the glass stood the test, and the traveller sank
luxuriously into the sinless bed, he was by no means
allowed to sleep in peace. Scarcely had his head touched
the pillow when the dim spe6lres of whooping-cough,
measles, mumps, scarlet fever, and chicken-pox crowded
round him, and he started up shuddering at the re-
membrance of some words suddenly forced on his

memory. Reference to the "Oracle" confirmed his
10

146 THE COACHING ERA

worst forebodings: "Travellers never can be sure that
those who have slept in the Beds before them were not
afflidted with some contagious disease."

An awful thought this to spring upon the mind of a
hitherto trusting and unsuspicious man. As a remedy
travellers were told "they should carry their own sheets
with them, i.e. a light eider down Quilt, and two dressed
Hart Skins should be put upon the Mattresses to hinder
the disagreeable contadt." If unprovided with these
necessities, he was advised not to undress but to sleep in
his clothes.

But what of the situation of the unhappy traveller
who had neglecSled to bring his own bedding, had already
undressed and stepped between the contaminated
sheets? Sorry indeed was his plight, for Dr. Kitchiner,
after making him a prey to nervous fears, gave no further
counsel, and at such a crisis of his life he was left without
moral or precept, and cast entirely on his own inadequate
resources.

Dr. Kitchiner was evidently determined that his
readers' sleep should be broken and uneasy, for if the
traveller was proof against the beds he had another fear
to insinuate and spoil his night's rest: "In Lonesome
places, where an accident may oblige you to rest, if
you carry Fire-Arms it may be well to let the Land-
lord see (as it were accidentally) that you are well
Armed."

He then cited the meritorious example of a gentleman,
who advised all who did not wish to be robbed to carry a
brace of blunderbusses, and to put the muzzle of one out

THE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE i^j

of each coach window so that would-be robbers might
see, and seeing beware.

Dr. Kitchiner recommended pistols, but he evidently
thought they should be used more for show and intimida-
tion than actual defence, for he earnestly counselled his
readers not to use them merely to save their money:
"If your Pistol takes effeft you may preserve your
Property, but it is a melancholy price you pay for it, if
it costs the Life of a fellow Creature; and if it misses
fire, you will most likely not only be Robbed, but
Murdered."!

To circumvent the landlord's evil designs the traveller
was urged to carry a supply of pocket door bolts and
screws as "these may on many occasions save the Pro-
perty and the Life of the Traveller." If the traveller had
neither of these appliances, and the door could not be
made to lock, then he was to drag the heavy furniture
across the room and pile it against the door; place the
jug and basin where they would rattle if disturbed;
crawl under the bed to see if it did not harbour an
assassin, and open cupboards for concealed robbers.

^ Many people entertained a strong aversion to shooting at
a highwayman. Boswell in his life of Dr. Johnson confirms this
in his entry for April 4th, 1778: "He talked of going to Streatham
that night."

Taylor — "You'll be robbed if you do: or you must shoot a
highwayman. Now I would rather be robbed than do that; I
would not shoot a highwayman."

Johnson — "But I would rather shoot him in the instant when
he is attempting to rob me, than afterwards swear against him
at the Old Bailey, to take away his Hfe after he had robbed me."

148 THE COACHING ERA

When he had done all these things he had Dr. Kitchiner's
sandlion to go to sleep if he could, and forget damp beds,
infeftious diseases, and unscrupulous landlords thirsting
for his blood.

The "Oracle," furthermore, contained a long list of
all the things essential for a traveller's comfort and
security, which was remarkable both for its length and
the various uses to which the different articles could be
put.

First and foremost he must provide himself with a
tough blackthorn stick three feet long, marked so that
it may be used as a measure. Although undoubtedly
delightful as a yard measure, the chief use of this stick
was as a weapon of defence against dogs, for every species
of the canine tribe was in Dr. Kitchiner's eyes a sinister
menace of hydrophobia; for which fell disease he very
truly remarks "semi-drowning in the Sea" is no remedy.

Stray dogs and fowls were alike abominable in the eyes
of Dr. Kitchiner, and he strenuously advocated that all
such should wear collars with their names and addresses
thereon. Legislation now decrees that our dogs shall
walk thus labelled, but we have yet to see the day when
the roosters and their lady wives shall strut round farm-
yards with neat leather collars round each feathered
neck.

The next necessity was a knife, but not one of the
common kind, for it was imperative that besides blades
it should possess a saw, a hook, a turnscrew, a gun-picker,
tweezers, and a corkscrew, the latter especially to be
"long and large enough to be useful." The very thought

THE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE 149

of such a paragon among knives would drive the pro-
spe6live traveller to despair, for where could he hope to
get one possessing so many perfedlions, and which if
satisfadlory as to tweezers should not fail lamentably as
to the saw, or whose corkscrew fell short of the desired
size. Dr. Kitchiner, ever ready to help, informed him
that a knife possessing all narrated qualifications could
be obtained from the maker, one Coleman at No. 4
Haymarket.

"Golashes or Parabones" were advised as proteftions
against damp; and for a cheap and comfortable travel-
ling cap nothing was so satisfaftory as a "Welch
Wig."

Whatever else he left behind the traveller was exhorted
to take his umbrella; and such an umbrella, for, says the
"Oracle," "the stick of which may contain a Telescope
or a Sword."

The list is too long to give in full, but here are some of
the things Dr. Kitchiner considered indispensable:

A Portable Case of Instruments for Drawing.

A Sketch and a Note-Book.

A folding one Foot Rule.

A Hunting Watch with seconds.

A Mariner's Compass; this may be in a Seal, on the

top of a Snuff-Box, or Head of a Cane.
A Thermometer; this may be in a Tooth-Pick case.
A Barometer for measuring heights; this may be in a

Walking-Stick.
Dr. Kitchiner's Invisible Opera Glass.
A Night Lamp.
A Tinder Box.

I50 THE COACHING ERA

Added to these were of course the sheets, eiderdown
quilt, and the hart skins, besides personal clothing, so
that the reader who faithfully carried out the direftions
enshrined in the "Oracle" encountered a serious obstacle
not referred to in those pages. Travellers generally were
only allowed 14 lb. weight of luggage, extra weight being
chargeable at 3d. per lb., and its carriage on a full coach
uncertain.

Imagination refuses adequately to pidlure the harrow-
ing situation of a traveller endeavouring to reduce his
luggage within prescribed limits, and hesitating between
sacrificing a change of linen, the hart skins, or the knife
with the saw and adequate corkscrew.

CHAPTER X THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER

PEOPLE who live in this twentieth century,
and consider a daily paper, telegraph and tele-
phone, necessities without which life would be
unthinkable, cannot realize the time when there
was no official organ for the distribution of news, and
when Kings might die, empires totter and fall, and
wars begin and end, without the inhabitants of the
country districts being any the wiser, or hearing of the
matter till long afterwards.-"-

News filtered through the provinces by the agencies
of travellers who halted at the various inns on the road,
it then circulated byword of mouth, so that by the time
it reached the remote villages it was so distorted and
garbled as to bear scant resemblance to the original
matter.

The pedlars and pack-horse carriers were more
reliable authorities, and they considered the latest news
from London as part of their stock in trade, though, as
they travelled slowly, it, like the goods they carried,

^ Lord Macaulay says that the news of Queen Elizabeth's
death was not known in parts of Devon and Cornwall till the
Court of her successor had ceased to wear mourning for her.
Bridgewater did not hear that Oliver Cromwell had assumed the
Protectorship till nineteen days after the event. The execution
of King Charles I was not known in parts of Wales till two
months after it had taken place, whilst the churches in the
Orkneys put up prayers for him long after he was beheaded,
and their successors did the same for James II after he had left
the kingdom.

152 THE COACHING ERA

was liable to be somewhat out of date by the time they
reached the end of their journey.

When coaches began to ply their uneven way along
the road, they became important fadlors in country life,
for it was through their agency that the villagers in the
provinces became acquainted with the happenings of
the great world which pulsated far beyond the ken of
their uneventful humdrum existence.

Samuel Crisp (the beloved "Daddy Crisp" of Fanny
Burney's diary), in a letter written at Chesington in
1780, tells his sister that the Epsom coachman has just
brought the news ^ "that there had been another Riot on
Tuesday with the cry of No Popery! and that some of the
Rioters were shot and others apprehended."

The summer of 1820 was a noteworthy one, both for
the intense heat, which caused horses to drop dead in the
roads and labourers in the fields, and for the excitement
created by the trial of Queen Caroline. The populace
sided with her enthusiastically, cheered wildly when
she appeared in Court, hooted her enemies with equal
fervour, and in the provinces "along the line of the mails,
crowds stood waiting in the burning sunshine for news
of the trial."2

During the stirring years of the late eighteenth and
early nineteenth centuries, when events of great magni-
tude followed each other in quick succession, it was by
the coaches that the country-folk heard with horror of
the atrocities of the French Revolution; followed the

1 Burford Papers. W. H. Hutton.

2 A History of the Thirty Years' Peace. H.^Martineau.

THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER 153

progress of the French and Spanish wars; thrilled with
pride at the news of Trafalgar; paled with dismay at the
rumours that the all powerful Napoleon was about to
invade England; slept more easily in their beds when
they heard of his imprisonment; trembled with fear at
the staggering news of his escape from St. Helena;
and shouted themselves hoarse for the great viftory of
Waterloo. "I could wish myself in London to be three-
and-forty hours nearer the news. Was there ever such
a land battle in modern times!" wrote Southey from
Keswick on July loth, 1815.

When despatches arrived telling of some great English
viftory by land or sea, London rang its bells and went
wild with joy, but to the coaches fell the proud distin6lion
of spreading the joyful news throughout the length
and breadth of the land.

To show that they performed this duty in no un-
certain manner, I append De Quincey's account of such
an occasion, and which for a piece of impassioned prose
vibrating with the true spirit of coaching has never been
surpassed:

Going Down with Victory

But the grandest chapter of our experience, within
the whole mail-coach service, was on those occasions
when we went down from London with the news of
victory. A period of about ten years stretched from
Trafalgar to Waterloo; the second and third years of
which period (1806 and 1807) were comparatively sterile;
but the other nine (from 1805 to 181 5 inclusively)
furnished a long succession of vidlories; the least of which,

154 THE COACHING ERA

in such a conquest of Titans, had an inappreciable value
of position — partly for its absolute interference with the
plans of our enemy, but still more for its keeping alive
through central Europe that sense of a deep-seated vul-
nerability in France. Even to tease the coasts of our
enemy, to mortify them by continual blockades, to insult
them by capturing if it were but a baubling schooner
under the eyes of their arrogant armies, repeated from
time to time a sullen proclamation of power lodged in
one quarter to which the hopes of Christendom turned
in secret. How much more loudly must this proclama-
tion have spoken in the audacity of having bearded the
elite of their troops, and having beaten them in pitched
battles! Five years of life it was worth paying down for
the privilege of an outside place on a mail-coach, when
carrying down the first tidings of any such event. And
it is to be noted that, from our insular situation, and the
multitude of our frigates disposable for the rapid trans-
mission of intelligence, rarely did any unauthorized
rumour steal away a prelibation from the first aroma
of the regular despatches. The government news was
generally the earliest news.

From eight p.m. to fifteen or twenty minutes later,
imagine the mails assembled on parade in Lombard
Street, where, at that time, and not in St. Martin's-le-
Grand, was seated the General Post Office. In what
exadl strength we mustered I do not remember, but
from the length of each separate attelage, we filled the
street, though a long one, and though we were drawn
up in double file. On any night the speftacle was
beautiful. The absolute perfeftion of all the appoint-
ments about the carriages and harness, their strength,
their brilliant cleanliness, their beautiful simplicity —
but, more than all, the royal magnificence of the horses —
were what might first have fixed the attention. Every

THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER 155

carriage, on every morning in the year, was taken down
to an official inspeftor for examination — wheels, axles,
linchpins, pole, glasses, lamps, were all critically probed
and tested. Every part of every carriage had been
cleaned, every horse had been groomed, with as much
rigour as if they belonged to a private gentleman; and
that part of the speftacle offered itself always. But the
night before us is a night of vidtory, and behold! to the
ordinary display, what a heart-shaking addition! — horses,
men, carriages, all are dressed in laurels and flowers,
oak-leaves and ribbons. The guards, as being officially
His Majesty's servants, and of the coachmen such as
are within the privilege of the post-office, wear the
royal liveries of course ; and as it is summer (for all the
land victories were naturally won in summer), they
wear, on this fine evening, these liveries exposed to
view, without any covering of upper coats. Such a
costume, and the elaborate arrangement of the laurels
in their hats, dilate their hearts, by giving them openly
a personal connection with the great news, in which
already they have the general interest of patriotism.
That great national sentiment surmounts and quells
all sense of ordinary distinftions. Those passengers who
happen to be gentlemen are now hardly to be distin-
guished as such except by their dress; for the usual
reserve of their manner in speaking to the attendants
has on this night melted away. One heart, one pride,
one glory, connects every man by the transcendent
bond of his national blood. The spectators, who are
numerous beyond precedent, express their sympathy
with these fervent feelings by continual hurrahs. Every
moment are shouted aloud by the post-office servants,
and summoned to draw up, the great ancestral names of
cities known to history through a thousand years —
Lincoln, Winchester, Portsmouth, Gloucester, Oxford,

156 THE COACHING ERA

Bristol, Manchester, York, Newcastle, Edinburgh,
Glasgow, Perth, Stirling, Aberdeen — expressing the
grandeur of the empire hy the antiquity of its towns,
and the grandeur of the mail establishment by the
diffuse radiation of its separate missions. Every moment
you hear the thunder of lids locked down upon the
mail-bags. That sound to each individual mail is the
signal for drawing off, which process is the finest part
of the entire spedlacle. Then come the horses into
play. Horses! can these be horses that bound off with
the aftion and gestures of leopards? What stir! — what
sea-like ferment! — what a thundering of wheels! — what
a trampling of hoofs! — what a sounding of trumpets! —
what farewell cheers — what redoubled peals of brotherly
congratulation, connefling the name of the particular
mail; — "Liverpool for ever!" — with the name of the
particular vi£lory — "Badajoz for ever!" or "Salamanca
for ever!" The half-slumbering consciousness that, all
night long and all the next day — perhaps for even a
longer period — many of these mails, like fire racing along
a train of gunpowder, will be kindling at every instant
new successions of burning joy, has an obscure effeft of
multiplying the viftory itself, by multiplying to the
imagination into infinity the stages of its progressive
diffusion. A fiery arrow seems to be let loose, which
from that moment is destined to travel, without inter-
mission, westwards for three hundred miles — north-
wards for six hundred; and the sympathy of our
Lombard Street friends at parting is exalted a hundred-
fold by a sort of visionary sympathy with the yet
slumbering sympathies which in so vast a succession we
are going to awake.

Liberated from the embarrassments of the city, and
issuing into the broad uncrowded avenues of the
northern suburbs, we soon begin to enter upon our

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CO k;

THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER 157

natural pace of ten miles an hour. In the broad light of
the summer evening, the sun, perhaps, only just at the
point of setting, we are seen from every storey of every
house. Heads of every age crowd to the windows —
young and old understand the language of our victorious
symbols — and rolling volleys of sympathizing cheers
run along us, behind us, and before us. The beggar,
rearing himself against the wall, forgets his lameness —
real or assumed — thinks not of his whining trade, but
stands ere6l, with bold, exulting smiles, as we pass him.
. . . Women and children, from garrets alike and cellars,
through infinite London, look down or look up with
loving eyes upon our gay ribbons and our martial
laurels; sometimes kiss their hands; sometimes hang
out, as signals of affeftion, pocket-handkerchiefs, aprons,
dusters, anything that, by catching the summer breezes,
will express an aerial jubilation.

As the coach sped swiftly along the country roads the
excitement by no means decreased, for its gay decora-
tions gave aftual demonstration of joyful tidings.
Labourers at work in the fields paused to look, and
seeing the triumphant laurels shouted hurrah with all
the strength of their lusty lungs. Passengers felt an
ele6lric sense of kinsmanship with those men so strong
and reliant, whose sons and brothers had stood side by
side with theirs, as for the honour of Old England they
faced and vanquished the common foe. Ad:uated by
these feelings they stood up on the coach, waved their
hats and shouted out the name of the vidlory. Children
by the road-side yelled with joy as the coach passed by;
for them the viftory had a special significance, for they
felt it had hammered another nail in the coffin of the

158 THE COACHING ERA

hated "Boney," whose terrifying personality exercised
a spell of awe in all British nurseries.

At the different stages the guard retailed as much
information as could be crammed into the brief period
assigned by his Way-bill, which had to be stridlly
adhered to, viftory or no vi6lory, or the Post Office
would require to know the reason ; nor would they
consider the news of a national vi6fory a fitting excuse
for lost time.

Where postal business had to be transafted, and
the stoppages were in consequence of longer duration,
the red coated guard became a person of the greatest
importance, and was surrounded by a group of listeners
eagerly demanding more definite and explicit tidings.
Some of the questioners had relatives at the seat of war,
and these awaited his news with fast beating hearts, for
to them a battle had poignant and personal interest,
and the word vi6lory held no significance till they were
assured it had not been purchased at the expense of
lives they held inexpressibly dear.

Sometimes the guard would bring down a copy of
a newspaper when his dignity was increased tenfold,
for a newspaper was no everyday occurrence, and the
country-folk had implicit belief in everything printed
thereon; and since few of them could read they accorded
unstinted admiration to the guard who could.

As the circulation of newspapers became general,
and the provincial interest in politics in consequence
more adlive, the result of some noteworthy trial or
legislation was awaited with the keenest impatience.

THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER 159

This was especially the case at the time of the Reform
Bill when the country was wild with excitement as to the
result. There was no telegraph to flash the news to
them, and the provinces were forced to wait with what
patience they could muster till the London coaches
came down.

That was a red letter day for the guards whose
coaches carried the first papers, for so eager were people
to buy them that there was practically no limit as to the
price they were prepared to pay. At Shottenham a
gentleman gave William Bayzand ^i for a copy of the
dimes', at Ross he parted with another copy for £2, and
the farther the coach went west the greater was the
excitement.

An up coach met the Mazeppa, and the guard shouted
out:

"Has the Bill passed?"

"It has," said Bayzand, hoarse from replying to the
same question, called to him at every village.

"Have you got a copy of the Times with the news
in?" inquired the other guard.

"Yes."

"Then don't be surprised at anything that takes
place, for the moment the Hereford people know they
will carry your paper and all off the coach to the inn."

Sure enough they did, for politics ran high at Here-
ford, and before the coach stopped Bayzand was pulled
from his seat, and carried on the shoulders of four men
to the club room. The chairman gave the guard a
five-pound note for a copy of the Times, which he

i6o THE COACHING ERA

read amid shouts of applause, and afterwards framed and
hung up in the club room.

When party politics ran high and an ele£lion was
in progress, the coaches played an important part, and
people who were rash enough to travel down the road
on those occasions laid themselves open to distindl
dangers.

Dickens throws a lurid light on the ta£l:ics employed,
and it is small wonder that the amiable and credulous
Mr. Pickwick felt agitated concerning the fate of the
luckless old gentleman who trusted his person on old
Mr. Weller's coach during a hotly contested election,
and whose tragic fate was thus narrated by the versatile
Sam Weller.

'"Ledlion time came on, and he was engaged by
vun party to bring down woters from London. Night
afore he was a going to drive up, committee on t'other
side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the
messenger, who shows him in; — large room — lots of
gen'l'm'n — heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that
'ere. 'Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair,
*glad to see you, sir; how are you?' — 'Wery well,
thank'ee, sir,' says my father; 'I hope you're pretty
middlin',' says he. — 'Pretty well, thank'ee, sir,' says
the gen'l'm'n; 'sit down, Mr. Weller — pray sit down,
sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the
gen'l'm'n looks wery hard at each other. 'You don't
remember me?' says the gen'l'm'n. — 'Can't say I do,*
says my father. — 'Oh, I know you,' said the gen'l'm'n;
'know'd you when you was a boy,' says he. — 'Well, I
don't remember you,' says my father. — 'That's wery
odd,' says the gen'l'm'n. — 'Wery,' says my father. —

THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER i6i

'You must have a bad mem'ry, Mr. Weller,' says the
gen'l'm'n. — 'Well, it is a wery bad 'un,' says my father. —
'I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours
him out a glass o' wine, and gammons him about his
driving, and gets him into a reg'lar good humour, and
at last shoves a twenty pound note in his hand. 'It's a
wery bad road between this and London,' says the
gen'l'm'n. — 'Here and there it is a wery heavy road,'
says my father. — "Specially near the canal, I think,'
says the gen'l'm'n. — 'Nasty bit that 'ere,' says my
father. — 'Well, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n, 'you're a
wery good whip, and can do what you like with your
horses, we know. We're all wery fond o' you, Mr. Weller,
so in case you should have an accident when you're
a bringing these here woters down, and should tip 'em
over into the canal vithout hurtin' o' 'em, this is for
yourself,' says he. — 'Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind,'
says my father, 'and I'll drink your health in another
glass of wine,' says he; vhich he did, and then
buttons up the money, and bows himself out. You
vouldn't believe, sir," continued Sam with a look of
inexpressible impudence at his master, "that on the
wery day as he came down with them woters, his coach
was upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em
was turned into the canal.'"

"And got out again?" inquired Mr. Pickwick hastily.

"Why," replied Sam, very slowly, "I rather think one
old gen'l'm'n was missin'. I know his hat was found,
but I an't quite certain whether his head was in it
or not. But what I look at is, the hex-traordinary and
wonderful coincidence, that arter what that gen'l'm'n
said my father's coach should be upset in that wery
place, and on that wery day!"

CHAPTER XI HIGHWAYMEN

ROBBERY has existed from the very earliest
times, and no doubt the socialistic dodlrine
that men should have all things in common
started with the first primeval man, who
by working strenuously amassed more goods than his
neighbours. These considered that by so doing he had
contravened their statutes, and at once proceeded to
readjust matters by appropriating that which he had so
hardly earned. This principle of taking from one man
to supply the wants of another was closely followed
throughout all ages, but those who took upon them-
selves thus to keep the balance of things were not looked
on kindly, and were, in fadl, spoken of unfavourably as
robbers.

As the followers of this lucrative profession increased,
there began to be distindtions amongst them, and
robbers, foot-pads, and pickpockets, all indicated
different branches of their calling. Those in the very
front rank of all, the highwaymen, were such fine
fellows that they would have been very grievously
offended if anyone had presumed to call them rascals
and ruffians, as in very truth they were.

Some of the earliest highwaymen were the Cavaliers;^
who, when the Civil War ended so disastrously for their

1 " Since the disbanding of the late army we heard of several
robberies and mischiefs committed in many places in England.
Many of the robbers having been seized and committed to
prison upon the same account," Newsletter.

HIGHWAYMEN 163

cause, took to the highway and robbed Parliamentarians
for a Hvelihood. One of them, James Hind, the son of a
saddler of Chipping Norton, so far prospered that he
was able to plunder Peters and Bradshaw, two of the
regicides. He narrowly escaped the proud distinftion
of robbing Cromwell himself, a deed which all Cavaliers,
highwaymen and otherwise, would have accounted both
just and righteous. Though they undoubtedly enjoyed
their spoils the better when filched from the pockets of
a Roundhead, the highwaymen were not blind to the
fadl that Royalist gold had every whit as much pur-
chasing power, and was not to be despised when Parlia-
mentary coin was scarce.

Later generations cared not from whence their booty
came, but levied toll on all and sundry without dis-
tindfion of persons or politics. These highwaymen of
the eighteenth century held such an exalted opinion of
themselves and their profession that even the term
"highwaymen" was not sufficiently refined for their
sensitive feelings, and "Gentlemen of the Road" or
"Road Inspedlors" were terms more to their liking.
Incredible as it seems, these men who made it their
business to rob and plunder on the highway considered
themselves gentlemen, and constantly impressed this
fa6t on their viftims; even Dick Turpin, who was a
ruffian even for highwaymen, returned a mourning ring
with the remark that they were "too much of gentlemen
to take anything a gentleman valued so much."

We have it on authority that the world takes people
at their own valuation, and the highwaymen, with their

i64 THE COACHING ERA

black masks, pistols, gay apparel and fine horses, forced
the public, or at least that part of it which was not being
robbed at the time, to regard them with romance. For
the most part they were brutal, degenerate men, yet
such was the glamour of their calling, and the fame of
the stories gathered round their names, that they were
quite unworthily regarded almost in the light of heroes
by the country-folk; though the general supposition
that they robbed the rich to pay the poor is not borne
out by a close perusal of their lives. "Light come, light
go " was their motto, and the proceeds of their robberies
were spent in licentious and profligate pleasures.

The road came to be looked upon as such a respeftable
profession that men who would have scorned the very
suggestion of soiling their hands with trade or honest
work took to it as a means of repairing their fallen
fortunes. Road-struck youths thought they saw in it a
short cut to wealth, and in 1774 a newspaper recounted
that seven highwaymen recently captured proved to be
boys from eighteen to twenty belonging to well-to-do
and respe6fable families.

There were not wanting instances of gentlemen who
lived unsuspefted among their neighbours, to all appear-
ances honest country squires, leading monotonous and
blameless lives, but who, as a matter of fa6f, were
highwaymen who sallied out at night intent on robbery.
The most notorious of these supposed country gentle-
men, the brothers Weston, lived at Winchelsea and
have been immortalized by Thackeray in his novel
Dennis Duval,

HIGHWAYMEN 165

The " High Toby" profession was, in fa6l, filled to
overflowing ; Macaulay says mounted highwaymen were
to be found on every main road, Hounslow Heath,
Finchley Common, Epping Forest, Maidenhead
Thicket, and Gadshill^ being of special ill-repute.

Horace Walpole wrote that, if the squires did not
leave off shooting partridges and take to shooting high-
waymen instead, society would be dissolved. In a letter
to Sir Horace Mann, he declared "Our roads are so
infested by highwaymen that it is dangerous stirring out
almost by day. Lady Hertford was attacked on Houn-
slow Heath at three in the afternoon. Dr. Eliot was
shot at three days ago, without having resisted, and the
day before yesterday we were near losing our Prime
Minister, Lord North; the robbers shot at the postilion,
and wounded the latter. In short all the free-booters
that are not in India have taken to the highway. The
ladies of the Bedchamber dare not go to the Queen at
Kew in the evening. The lane between me and the
Thames is the only safe road I know at present, for it is
up to the middle of the horses in water."

Walpole was himself robbed by Maclean "the gentle-
man highwayman," who excused his condudl by saying
that he had that morning been " disappointed of
marrying a great fortune." Maclean was a poor high-
wayman, but possessing a good figure and fine clothes,
he sought industriously for an heiress, and then in
despair took to "the road." On June 26th, 1750, Maclean

^ It is on Gadshill that Falstaff and his companions rob the
travellers in King Henry IV. Act II. Scene II.

i66 THE COACHING ERA

and his accomplice, Plunkett, robbed the Salisbury-
stage-coach on Turnham Green. Amongst the booty
they took a trunk of fine clothes belonging to one of
the passengers, and these Maclean sold on his return
to London. The rightful owner of them, however,
promptly advertised his loss, which resulted in their
recovery, and the arrest of the highwayman at his
fashionable lodgings in St. James's Street. Maclean
indignantly asked: "What should a gentleman like my-
self know of highway robbery?" A blunderbuss, twenty-
three purses and other stolen property supplied adequate
answer, despite the faft that several society ladies gave
witness as to the integrity of the "captain's" charadler.

All fashionable London flocked to see the captured
highwayman in his cell. The first Sunday after his
imprisonment he had three thousand visitors according
to Horace Walpole, who says: "The chief personages
who have been to comfort and weep over the fallen hero
are Lady Caroline Petersham and Miss Ashe — I call
them "Polly" and "Lucy," and ask them if he did not
sing: "Thus I stand like the Turk with his doxies
around? "

Polly and Lucy were two charafters in the popular
Beggar^s Opera which Gay had written to poke fun
at highwaymen. When it was finished Congreve said:
"It will either take greatly or be damned confoundedly."
It proved an instant success, so much so that the
Bow Street magistrates endeavoured to get it sup-
pressed on the grounds that its continued produdlion
would tend to increased highway robbery.

HIGHWAYMEN 167

Undoubtedly there were romantic young ladies who
would have been prodigiously thrilled if robbed by a
fashionably dressed highwayman, but others, like Lady
Walpole's friend. Lady Browne, had greater regard for
their own property:

"Lady Browne and I were, as usual, going to the
Duchess of Montrose's at seven o'clock. The evening
was dark. In the close lane, under the park pale, and
within twenty yards of the gate, a black figure pushed
by between the chaise and the hedge on my side. I
suspefted it was a highwayman, and so, I found, did
Browne, for she was speaking, and stopped. To divert
her fears I was going to say, 'Is not that the apothecary
going to the Duchess ?' when I heard a voice cry 'Stop!'
and then the figure came back to the chaise. I had the
presence of mind before I let down the glass, to take
out my walet and stuff it within my dress under the
arm. He said:

'Your purses and walets?'

'I have no walet,' I replied.

'Then your purse.'

I gave it to him; it had nine guineas in it. It
was so dark that I could not see his hand, but I felt
him take it. He then asked for Lady Browne's purse,
and said,

'Don't be frightened, I will not hurt you.'

'No, you won't frighten the lady,' I said.

'No, I give you my word I will not hurt you,' he
replied.

Lady Browne gave him her purse, and was going to
add her walet; but he said,

'I am much obliged to you; I wish you good-night,'
he pulled off his hat, and rode away.

i68 THE COACHING ERA

'Well,' said I, 'you will not be afraid of being robbed
another time, for, you see there is nothing in it.'

'Oh! but I am,' said she, 'and now I am in terror
lest he return, for I have given him a purse with bad
money in it, that I carry on purpose.'"

Jack Ovet, the son of a shoemaker, considered his
prospers as highwayman so bright that he had the
presumption to ask a lady to join them. He saw, and
fell instantly in love with her when, in pursuit of his
calling, he stopped the Worcester stage-coach. His
infatuation did not prevent his robbing the lady of
twenty guineas, though he protested that he only wished
to borrow them, and would return them if she would
favour him with her address. This she did and soon
afterwards received, not her stolen property, but a
bombastic letter from Ovet, in which he declared that,
though he had taken a few paltry guineas, she had
committed a far greater robbery, for she had stolen his
heart. This he valued considerably higher than did the
objedt of his affeftions, who replied with a letter which
was calculated to pierce even a highwayman's self
esteem:

"You have broken your word, in not sending me what
you villainously took from me; but, not valuing that,
let me tell you, for fear you should have too great a
conceit of yourself, that you are the first to my recol-
lection whom I ever hated; and sealing my hatred with
the hopes of quickly reading your dying speech, in case
you die in London, I presume to subscribe myself, —
Yours never to command."^

^ Lives of the Highwaymen. Johnson.

HIGHWAYMEN 169

One woman possessed of a ready wit discovered an
ingenious way out of a difficult situation. She was
travelling from Gloucester to London, and at Braintree
the coachman warned her that there were some sus-
picious looking charafters ahead, and he was more than
half inclined to think they were highwaymen. In this
supposition he was right, for Nicholas Horner, one of
the bright particular stars of his calling, rode up and
commanded the coachman to stop. Almost before this
request could be complied with, the lady, with her hair
hanging wildly about her, jumped out of the coach
crying: "Oh, Cousin Tom, dear Cousin Tom, save me."
Seizing the astonished highwayman by the leg, she
implored him to rescue her from the coachman, who, so
she said, was taking her to Bedlam by her husband's orders.

Horner, considerably taken aback, declared that
he was no cousin of hers, and that mad she most un-
doubtedly was, and Bedlam the best place for her. At
this the lady wept and clung to him the more desper-
ately, declaring that she would go with her dear Cousin
Tom, and that she would not go to Bedlam.

Horner wished himself well out of the business,
and appealed to the coachman who played up to his
lady nobly, saying that he was ordered to take her to a
madhouse, though not to Bedlam. Horner told the
coachman to take her there, and, wrenching himself
free of the lady's restraining arms, put spurs to his horse
and galloped off, whilst she got into the coach, did up
her hair, and took the jewels and money from their
hiding-place beneath the cushions.

lyo THE COACHING ERA

Passengers by stage-coach generally talked highway-
men, thought highwaymen, dreamed highwaymen, and
saw a highwayman behind every tree, so that, when the
travellers on a certain journey, having been jolted into
intimacy, began on their favourite topic, a gentleman
confided to them that he had ten guineas in his pocket
and was very anxious to keep them in his own possession.
A lady thereupon said that if such was his desire he had
better put them in his boot. He accepted the advice
thankfully and immediately did so. A few minutes
later the coach halted abruptly, and a masked highway-
man put his head in at the window and commanded an
instant transfer of purses. The passengers sat petrified,
while the gentleman with the gold in his boot thought
complacently that it was safe. On this score he was
rudely disillusioned, for he could scarcely believe his
ears when the lady who had recommended the hiding-
place calmly told the robber to look in the gentleman's
boot.

The highwayman promptly commanded all present
to remove their boots, a proceeding delicately referred
to in the vernacular of the road as "shelling the peas."
He took the money thus revealed and departed.

The coach proceeded, and the luckless gentleman,
bewailing the loss of his ten guineas, relieved himself
by telling the lady his plain unvarnished opinion of her.
She owned that the case looked black, but declared she
could clear herself if all present would come and dine
with her next day. The company, after some indecision
agreed to do this, and the following day they were

HIGHWAYMEN 171

shown into a magnificent dining-room, and entertained
to a sumptuous repast. At the end of the meal the
hostess produced a pocket-book, and turning to the
man who had been robbed said: "In this book, sir, are
bank notes to the amount of a thousand pounds. I
thought it better for you to lose ten guineas than me
this valuable property, which I had with me last night.
As you have been the means of my saving it, I entreat
your acceptance of this bank-bill of one hundred
pounds."

One highwayman appears to have carried his gentility
to excess, for he is thus described in the newspapers:

- "On Friday morning last a young highwayman
genteelly dressed, attended by an accomplice dressed
in livery, robbed several of the early northern stages
near Holloway, and took from the passengers a con-
siderable booty."

Another member of the same calling introduced an
even more original touch into the business, for he would
approach the coach with a loaded blunderbuss in one
hand, and a dead rabbit in the other. Then, when the
terrified passengers looked at his masked countenance
with their eyes nearly starting out of their heads, he
held up the rabbit — and the blunderbuss — remarking
in the most dulcet tones: "Gentlemen, will you buy my
rabbit?" which request coming from such an unex-
pected quarter nearly paralysed his vi (Slims. When
sufficiently recovered to find their tongues, they re-
marked quaveringly that they one and all had an un-

172 THE COACHING ERA

conquerable aversion to rabbits. The highwayman in a
fury shouted out: "But you must and shall buy my
rabbit"; and buy they did at a most uncommonly high
price.

The fear the highwayman inspired was extraordinary,
for, though coaches might be filled with passengers
armed to the teeth, it was exceedingly rare for a high-
wayman to meet with any resistance. At the word of
command travellers instantly put down their blunder-
buss and sought wildly for their purses. Many highway-
men, knowing this, did not trouble to load their pistols,
relying on their telling appearance, and their own black
masks to carry the matter through successfully. One
robber boasted that he never used weapons, and his
pistol was, in fa6l, nothing but a pewter candlestick,
which could be pointed with gratifying success on a dark
night.

A Huntingdon horse-keeper robbed the Peterborough
coach with the same deadly instrument, but his con-
fidence in it was not fulfilled, for when he attempted the
same high-handed proceeding with the Stamford Fly
the guard had the presence of mind to fire off his
blunderbuss. The wounded highwayman horse-keeper
was carried into Huntingdon to the astonishment of
the inhabitants, who had known him only as a creditable
and law abiding citizen.

Anthony Wood, too, in his diary tells how in 1692
a stage waggon was robbed near Gerrard's Cross, by a
gang of highwaymen, "of whom Savage, sometime an
Oxford mercer, was one." The Oxford Journal for 1755

HIGHWAYMEN 173

speaks of a highwayman "Davis, the Tallow Chandler,"
who robbed the Cirencester mail, and was condemned
to be hanged and his body hung in chains, "in some
convenient place near where the robbery was com-
mitted."

Many stories, true and fi6litious, have collefted round
the personalities of the most noted highwaymen, but
probably the one which appeals most to the popular
imagination is the account of Dick Turpin's fiftitious
ride to York, which originated in the inventive genius of
Harrison Ainsworth. In real life Dick Turpin was a
brutal and, it is hinted, cowardly ruffian, who never
rode to York in one day, or owned the celebrated but
mythical Black Bess. Happily, history does not deprive
us entirely of the ride from Gadshill to York; it was an
actual performance undertaken by a highwayman to
prove an alibi, but the hero of it was one Nevison, better
known as "Swift Nicks."

Though sceptics have thrown grave doubts on Claude
Du Vall's famous dance on the heath, they have not been
able to disprove it, so that the otherwise sordid history
of highwaymen may be allowed that one bit of romance.
Du Vail and his companions had received information
that a knight with ^£400 in his coach was travelling
towards them, and they promptly decided that before
the night was over the ;^400 should have changed hands.

The knight, like all who carried valuables in those
days, was anything but easy in his mind, and as night
approached he continually looked out of the coach. At
last he espied what he had been looking for, namely, the

174 THE COACHING ERA

sinister figure of a horseman evidently waiting for
some one. The knight had every reason to beheve
that some one was himself — and his money-bags, and he
hastened to acquaint his wife with his suspicion. To
show that she, at any rate, was not afraid she took out
her flageolet and began to play a lively air. Apparently,
one of these instruments was considered part of a
fashionable highwayman's equipment, for Claude Du
Vail produced a similar instrument, and riding up to the
coach he bowed low and asked if the lady would honour
him with a dance.

The lady finding herself suddenly in the midst of such
an unexpefted and delicious romance assented willingly.
Her husband only too glad of anything that distradled
attention from his money-bags did nothing to deter
her, saying to the highwayman: "I dare not deny any-
thing, sir, to one of your quality and good behaviour;
you seem a gentleman and your request is very reason-
able."

Du Vail then handed the lady from her carriage with
courtly grace, and together they danced on the heath,
whilst the servants looked on and wondered, and the
knight thought of his money-bags. For want of a better
orchestra, Du Vail sang the "currant" himself. When
the performance was over, and the lady resumed her
seat, the knight would have driven off, but Du Vail
with the greatest politeness stopped him suavely. "Sir,
you forget to pay for the music."

The knight took the delicate hint and drew out a
bag containing a hundred pounds. Du Vail accepted it,

HIGHWAYMEN 175

remarking as he bowed with the most courtly grace:
"Sir, you are liberal, and your liberality shall excuse you
the other three hundred pounds."

A different form of entertainment was suggested by
James Whitney and his followers, for after they had
robbed a clergyman of ^10 the humour seized them
that he should preach them a sermon. The divine rose
to the occasion, and took for his text the word "Theft,"
which was certainly applicable to his audience, but
showed great daring on his part. His discourse ended
thus: "Let him that stole steal no more, or else the
letters of my text point to a tragical conclusion; for T,
take care; H, hanging; E, ends not; F, felony; T, at
Tyburn." Despite its extreme pointedness, the robbers
approved of the sermon, and declaring that the preacher
deserved his fee presented him with los. out of his ;^io.

Ned Wicks made a strange proposition to one of
his viftims, for when he stopped Lord Mohun with
the usual polite formula of "Damee stand and deliver,"
his lordship replied with such a string of profanities
that Wicks, who was no mean performer in that line
himself, was quite taken aback. A man with such a
command of language was quite out of the common
run and entitled to any highwayman's respect. With a
view to ascertaining who was the most proficient in the
gentle art of swearing, Wicks proposed they should
have a swearing match for a bet of £^0, Lord Mohun's
groom to aft as judge.

The preliminaries settled, they fell to, and for a
quarter of an hour they swore in a way that fairly

176 THE COACHING ERA

astonished each other. Then the groom was asked who
had acquitted himself the best, and gave his vote in
favour of the highwayman, saying: "Why, my lord,
your honour swears as well as ever I heard any gentle-
man of quality in my life, but indeed, to give the strange
gentleman his due, he has done better than yourself,
and has won the wager if it was for a thousand pounds."

The introduftion of the mail-coaches spoilt "the high
Toby profession," but did not entirely ruin it. Dr.
Routh, President of Magdalen College, Oxford, from
1791 to 1854, could remember seeing an execution.
In reply to questions he would say: "What, sir, do you
tell me, sir, that you never heard of Gownsman's
Gallows? Why, I tell you, sir, that I have seen two
undergraduates hanged on Gownsman's Gallows in
Holywell — hanged, sir, for highway robbery!" As late
as 1840 newspapers came out with such headlines as:
"Notorious highwaymen taken," but in such instances
the highwayman had degenerated into footpads or
robbers, feeble imitations of their dashing forerunners.

The "gentlemen of the road" led a life crowded with
incident and excitement, but their careers were not of
long duration; after a few years came the inevitable
end: a bullet aimed by an unusually courageous
traveller; a wild flight across country with the officers
of the law in hot pursuit; a gallant horse shot dead. A
crowded trial, and sentence to death.

Bold and desperate to the last, they kept a gay atti-
tude. Dressed in the height of fashion they received
visitors of all ranks of society. Even on the last journey

HIGHWAYMEN 177

to Tyburn they laughed and joked, bowed to the crowd,
and went boldly and unflinchingly to their death. ^

When the last grim rites were over, their bodies
were cut down, and often hung in chains in conspicuous
places on the roads where they had robbed during their
lives, so that the dismal spe6lacle might deter others
from following in their footsteps, and, incidentally,
constitute a terror to belated travellers. ^

^ Executions were looked upon as a species of public entertain-
ment. In Ingoldsby Legends^ Lord Tomnoddy, inquiring of
Tiger Tim, "What may a nobleman find to do?" received reply:
"An't please you, my lord, there's man to be hanged."

2 Mrs. Anne and I rode under a man that hangs upon Shooters
Hill, and a filthy sight it was to see how his flesh is shrunk to his
bones. Pefys's Diary ^ April 11, 1661.

CHAPTER XII THE AMATEURS

CHARLES I appears to have been the first
English Amateur to drive a coach and four,
but of his exploits we know nothing beyond
a brief mention of the faft in a poem of the
Commonwealth, wherein is said:

"And what distradion for the reputation

Of Prince is that manly recreation

More now, or then it was, when Charles of late

For his disport upon the coach-box sate

(As many times he did) and not disdain

To let inferiors ride in Charles's Wain."

The occasion for the above lines was the famous
coaching accident which occurred to Oliver Cromwell
when he aspired to the box-seat. The Lord Prote61:or,
having received a present of six grey coach horses,
decided to make trial of them on September 29th,
1654, when accompanied by Thurloe, his secretary,
and a few other gentlemen he drove in state to Hyde
Park. Presumably they made a merry jaunt of it, for
Cromwell "caused some dishes of meat to be brought,
when he made his dinner. ■"• The repast finished, the
Protestor had a great desire to drive the coach himself,
and therefore mounted the box.

Cromwell's friends had apparently no great faith

in his coachmanship, for his secretary alone ventured

himself as inside passenger. The Prote6lor "drove

pretty handsomely for some time," but the horses not

^ Thurloe's StaU Papers.
178

THE AMATEURS 179

going fast enough to please him he used his whip, which
they resented, "and run so fast" that he was flung from
his seat and, catching his foot in part of the harness,
dragged some distance. To make his situation the more
perilous, a pistol "went off in his pocket," so that it is
surprising to find that he escaped with but little hurt,
and after being taken home and let blood was soon well
again. Thurloe, who jumped from the coach, injured
his ankle, and kept his room for some days, "so that we
have not been able to further or expedite any business
this week," wrote the Dutch Ambassador.

Enemies of the Protedlorate openly expressed their
regret that the accident had not terminated fatally.
This is what they said of it in Paris: "Sir — We hear of a
misfortune befallen the Lord Protedlorate, for playing
the coachman. He had better have sat in his chair in
the painted chamber to govern the Parliament, which is
more pliable to his pleasure, than in the coach-box to
govern his coach horses, which have more courage to put
him out of the box, than the three hundred Members
of Parliament have to put him out of his chair."

Poets, Royalists, and Parliamentarians alike, rushed
into print on the subject, drawing morals widely diver-
gent, according to their political opinions. Supporters
of the Commonwealth professed to see in the accident
a case of miraculous intervention:

"When he did fall, was it not won'drous well
That from his seat, into God's arms he fell?
And that, he falling, fell not in such wise
As they, who rise to faU; but fell to rise."

i8o THE COACHING ERA

Royalists, as might be expefted, found a very different
inference; in their eyes the accident clearly foretold
Cromwell's ultimate fall from his high estate:

"His first reproach

Is a fall from a coach

And his last will be from a cart."^

Mythology was adduced as evidence on both sides.
Cromwell's supporters cited Hippolytus whose horses
took fright at Neptune's sea calves, thus showing that
accidents were unavoidable and no slur on coachmanship.
Royalists compared Cromwell to Phaeton, who having
no experience of horsemanship, aspired to drive the
chariot of the sun, with disastrous results.

John Cleaveland, the Royalist, wrote a none too
complimentary poem called "The Coachman of St.
James!"

I'm pleased to fancy how the glad compa6l

Of Hackney coachmen sneer at the last aft.

Hark how the scoffing concourse hence derives

The Proverb 'Needs must go when th' devil drives!'

Yonder a whipster cries, "tis a plain case

He turned us out to put himself in th' place;

But God-a-mercy horses once for aye

Stood to't and turned him out as well as we.'

Another not behind then with his mocks

Cries out — 'Sir, faith you were in the wrong box.'

^ Criminals were taken to the gallows in a cart, which, after
the rope was adjusted, moved on and left them hanging.

THE AMATEURS i8i

He did presume to rule because forsooth

He'd been a Horse Commander from his youth;

But he must know there's difference in the reins

Of horses fed with oats, and fed with grains.

I wonder at his frolic, for to be sure

Four pampered coach horses can fling a brewer;^

But pride will have a fall, such the world's course is

He that can rule three realms, can't guide four horses.

See him that trampled thousands in their gore.

Dismounted by a party led of four.

But we have done with't, and we may him call

This driving Jehu, Phaeton his fall;

I would to God for these three kingdom's sake

His neck and not the whip had given the crack."

Cromwell's upset seems to have checked coaching
enthusiasm, for it is not till the close of the eighteenth
century that amateur coaching became fashionable.
Mr. John Warde, the Kentish squire of fox hunting
fame, rediscovered the sport of the four-in-hand, when,
for the sheer delight of the thing, he often took the place
of the professional coachmen on the Gloucester old
stage or the Birmingham Prince of Wales. It was owing
to his persistent representation of the discomforts of
the box-seat that Telegraph springs were first added,
and the way of the "Amateurs" made easy in more ways
than one.

Once introduced as a sport, coaching became all the
rage, and to drive a four-in-hand was considered
essential for a man of fashion. To attain proficiency in

^ Cromwell was popularly but erroneously supposed to have
started life as a brewer.

i82 THE COACHING ERA

the art, the young bloods of the day went to the pro-
fessional coachmen for tuition, and tried their prentice
hands on the public coaches. The public, not unreason-
ably, resented this, and passengers would obje6l if the
reins were given to anyone but the rightful driver.

The professional coachmen took their work of tuition
seriously, they were stridl masters and merciless critics,
as may be gathered from an article which appeared
in the New Sporting Magazine, by a pupil of Old Bill
Williams, driver of the Oxford Defiance:

"Never by any chance — confound him!— would he
allow an error or an ungraceful a61: to pass unnoticed,
and I have often got off his box so annoyed at his merci-
less reproofs and ledlures that I vowed no power on
earth should make me touch another rein for him. The
first morning, in particular, that I was with him, I shall
never forget. In spite of all my remonstrances, nothing
would satisfy him, but I must take the reins from the
door of the very office, at the Belle Sauvage, he himself
getting up behind, in order as he said not 'to fluster
the young 'un.' By great good luck we got pretty well
into the street, and without anything worth telling, for
some way past Temple Bar; but, as my evil star would
have it, the narrow part of the Strand was uncommonly
full, and having rather an awkward team, and being,
moreover, in a particular stew, we had more than one
squeak at sundry posts, drays, etc. Still not one word
was uttered by the Artist, though by this time he had
scrambled in front, till after a devil of a mistake in
turning into the Haymarket, he touched my arm very
civilly, with a 'pull up if you please, sir, by that empty
coal cart.' I did so; at least as well as I could — and

THE AMATEURS 183

found, to my utter horror that it was for the purpose of
his requesting the grinning black-a-moor that belonged
to it ''to lend him some six or seven sacks to take the drag
home, for,' said he, '/ am sure the gentleman zvonH take it
up to the Gloucester Coffee House a coach P'''^

Amateurs driving the coaches were not always recog-
nized and, in consequence, received the "tips" intended
for the professional coachmen, circumstances which
afforded them much joy, and they never tired of relating
how they had been "tipped a bob, and returned a bow."

Sir St. Vincent Cotton, a gifted amateur, eventually
joined the ranks of the professionals, and drove one of the
Brighton coaches for a living, for so great was his pro-
pensity for gambling that he ran through two large
fortunes.

A chara6leristic story is told of how one evening when
he and his friends were at dinner they found some
maggots among the nuts. Anything able to run or crawl
could, in their eyes, be made the subjedl of a bet, and
they instantly instituted a maggot race on the result of
which the odds ran high. The maggots were ranged in
a line, their backers provided with needles to spur them
on. The starter gave the word, and the race began amid
uproarious excitement. Sir St. Vincent's maggot was
the favourite, and seemed safe to win, but the baronet
to urge it to fresh endeavours pricked it so vehemently
with his needle, that it suddenly curled up and refused
to move, so that a rank outsider crept up and won,
whereby, so it is said. Sir St. Vincent lost ^30,000.

Another famous amateur on the Brighton road was

i84 THE COACHING ERA

Mr. Stevenson, better known as the "Cambridge
Graduate," who drove the Age, for "his passion for the
bench got the better of all other ambitions, and he
became a coachman hy profession."

The Age, the best appointed coach of its time, in
place of a guard carried liveried servants, whose duty
it was to wait on the passengers offering them sand-
wiches and sherry when the coach changed horses. Mr.
Stevenson got plenty of fun out of his coach, but as a
business speculation it was condu6led on too lavish
lines to be successful.

Stevenson's career ended tragically soon, and when
dying of brain fever he asked those near to lift him up in
bed, then sitting in his usual attitude on the box, he
imagined himself once more on the Age, and calling
out, "Let them go, George, I've got 'em," fell back and
expired.

Among others who drove regularly on the stage-
coaches were Mr. Richard Backenbury, who with some
friends put the Taglioni on the Windsor road, and
tooled the piebald teams himself; and the then Marquis
of Worcester (well known on the Brighton road), in
whose honour the Hon. Martin Hawke wrote the follow-
ing song, which appeared in the Sporting Magazine
for 1840:

The Criterion Coach

As quick as thought, there see approach,

Swift glancing down the road,
The dashing gay Criterion coach.
With in and outside load.

THE AMATEURS 185

'Tis Worcester's Lord who drives the team,

Thorough-bred, or near it,
Of all the talents, he's the cream —

Upset? who can fear it?

And now they change, and off again

Under half a minute;
So just each trace, so true each rein,

Really magic's in it!

Like bright Japan the harness shines

All chosen and seleft;
The brass — like famed Potosi's mines

A mirror to refleft.

And mark the flowers on each head —

The rose and lily fair
Around us all their fragrance shed,

Embalm the morning air!

The well-shaped yew, the tapering thong,

Proclaimed the workman's art;
But as the blood ones dash along.

They feel no useless smart.

Oh no! he tries each supple rein

To check their eager speed
Strong is the hand that can restrain

Each noble well-bred steed.

Here is all life, excitement, joy.

Our troubles left behind.
No cares our pleasure to destroy.

Our sorrows to the wind.

i86 THE COACHING ERA

The hunter boasts his gallant steed

That flies o'er hill and dale,
But we can best his fastest speed,

And tell a brighter tale.

We've no blank days, no wants of scent,

To check our forward course;
Fresh teams await when this is spent.

This beats his second horse.

And hark! the bugle sounds alarms

Thro' every country place,
The village beauties show their charms.

Displaying every grace.

Then here's my toast, and fill it up,

"Success the road attend!"
And he that will not pledge the cup

To talent is no friend!

Lord Onslow, a good whip but of great eccentricity,
had his coach painted black, and drawn by four magni-
ficent black horses, the whole turn-out being strongly
reminiscent of a hearse. He was the subject of many
quibs and caricatures, one of which ran:

"What can Tommy Onslow do?
He can drive a curricle and two.
Can Tommy Onslow do no more?
Yes, he can drive a coach and four."

Amateurs who delighted in a four-in-hand, but did
not desire to displace the professional coachmen, formed
among themselves a driving Club. This was the famous
Benson Driving Club popularly called the B.D.C.,
instituted in 1807, and which continued till 1853.

THE AMATEURS 187

There were twenty-five members who drove twice
a year to the White Hart at Benson in Oxfordshire —
fifty-six miles — where they dined, and twice to the
Black Dog at Bedfont — fourteen miles. From the names
of the two inns, the B.D.C. was nicknamed the Black
and White Club.

Song of the B.D.C.

You ask me gents to sing a song,

Don't think me too encroaching,
I won't detain you very long,

With one of mine on coaching.
No rivalry have we to fear.

Nor jealous need we be, sir.
We all are friends who muster here.

And in the B.D.C, sir.

Horace declares the Greeks of old.

Were once a driving nation;
But Shakespeare says "The World's a stage"

A cutish observation.
The stage he meant, good easy man.

Was drawn by nine old Muses;
But the Muse for me is the B.D.C.

And that's the stage I chooses.

I call this age the iron age

Of Railways and Pretension,
And coaching now is in a stage

Of horrible declension.
The days gone by when on the Fly

We rolled to Alma Mater,
And jovial took the reins in hand

Of the Times or Regulator.

i88 THE COACHING ERA

Those were the days when Peytons grays

To Bedfont led the way, sir,
And Villebois followed with his bays

In beautiful array, sir.
Then Spicer too, came next in view

To join the gay procession.
Oh! the dust we made — the cavalcade

Was neat beyond expression.

No turnpike saw a fancy team

More neat than Dolphin sported,
When o'er the stones with Charley Jones

To Bedfont they resorted.
Few graced the box as much as Cox;

But there were none I ween, sir,
Who held the reins 'twixt here and Staines

More slap up than the Dean, sir.

Those are the men who foremost then

To coaching gave a tone, sir,
And hold they will to coaching still,

Tho' here they stand alone, sir.
Then drink to the coach, the B.D.C.,

Sir Henry and his team, sir.
And may all be hlozued right off the road,

Who wish to go by steam, sir.

Two other famous driving clubs were the Four
Horse Club founded by Mr. Charles Buxton in 1808,
and the Richmond Driving Club, of 1838, instituted by
Lord Chesterfield, who insisted that the members
"should drive like coachmen, but look like gentlemen,"
thus pointing the finger of derision at many of the
Amateurs who outcoachmaned the professionals in
manners and appearance.

THE AMATEURS 189

The members of the Four Horse Club affeded the
following apparel: "The costume of each gentleman
consisted of a bottle green body coat, a milk white
double breasted great coat reaching to the heels, several
large capes, and buttons of mother of pearl, as large as
crown pieces; a many flowered bouquet in a buttonhole
at the side; upon the head a low crowned, broad-
brimmed hat, with a broad riband and buckle, the hair
sleeked down under it, coachmanlike."

In the farce of Hit or Miss, Charles Matthews,
in the part of Dick Cipher, caricatured coaching
amateurs; "belonging to the honourable neck or nothing,
having gone through all the gradations of buggy, gig
and dog cart, tandom, curricle, unicorn and four-in-
hand; neglefted nothing, dashed at everything — pegg'd
at a Jarvey — tool'd a mail coach, and now have attained
the credit of being bang up."

The great hit of the piece was the Bang up coaching
song:

"With spirits gay I mount the box, the tits up to their traces,
My elbows squar'd, my wrists turn'd down, dash off to Epsom

races.
With Buxton bit, bridoon so trim, three chestnuts and a grey,
Well coupl'd up my leaders then, ya hip, we bowl away.
Some push along with four-in-hand, while others drive at

random,
In whiskey, buggy, gig, or dog-cart, curricle or tandem.

Prime of life to go it, where's a place like London?
Four-in-hand to-day, the next you may be undone:
Where belles as well as beaux, to get the Whip hand strive.
And Mrs. Snip the tailor's wife, can teach her spouse to drive.

190 THE COACHING ERA

So Jackey Snip, his wife and all, to Dobbin's back are strapp'd on,
In one horse chay to spend the day, with neighbour Snip at
Clapton.

Some push along, etc.

Thus 'tis with all who in London are striving
Both high and low at something are driving.
A peer and a prentice now dress so much the same
You cannot tell the diff'rence, excepting by the name.
On Epsom Downs, says Billy-Zounds, that cannot be Lord Jackey.
Egad! but now I see it is — I took him for his lackey.

Some push along, etc."

A foreigner who witnessed the performance was
immensely taken with it, and wished to express his
appreciation to the adlor, but, unfortunately, he could
not recall the name of the piece. Matthews feigned
ignorance also, and the foreigner endeavoured to explain
himself by personalities: "Cott (coat) viteV (Mr.
Matthews shook his head). "Large caps? (capes). De
man vis de large buttons, viteV (still Mr. Matthews
pretended not to recognize Hit or Miss). "Large
hat, vitet Noss-gay?" (no sign of intelligence from the
aftor). "Long veep! (whip). Oh, so droll at long veep! —
Ah, now I know, I recolle£l in French de nom. It is
'Frappe ou Mademoiselle.'"

The literature of the early part of the last century
made occasional mention of driving amateurs. In Vanity
Fair Sir Pitt Crawley took Becky Sharp down to Queens
Crawley by coach, and told the coachman to keep the
box-seat for him.

"Yes, Sir Pitt," replied that worthy, with a touch of
his hat and rage in his soul, for he had promised that

THE AMATEURS 191

place to a young gentleman from Cambridge, who
would have given him a crown to a certainty, whereas
he knew well that the miserly Sir Pitt was not given to
tipping. The undergraduate was no better pleased, but
confided to Becky that Sir Pitt horsed some of the
stages, and by way of revenge he meant to take it out of
his cattle, saying viciously: "But won't I flog 'em on to
Squashmore, when I take the ribbons!"

Another undergraduate tooled the coach when
Arthur Pendennis went to Oxford, "in a well appointed
coach, filled inside and out with dons, gownsmen,
young freshmen about to enter, and their guardians,
who were conducing them to the University. A fat
old gentleman in grey stockings, who sat by Major
Pendennis inside the coach, having his pale faced son
opposite, was frightened beyond measure when he heard
that the coach had been driven a couple of stages by
young Mr. Folier of Saint Boniface College."

The engaging Verdant Green, too, made his first
appearance at the University on the top of a coach —
The Royal Defiance — and Mr. Green had the same
cause for disquietude as the old gentleman in grey
stockings. The coach cantered up, seemingly enveloped
in a cloud of dust, but which on close inspeftion proved
to be "not dust only, but smoke from the cigars,
meerschaums and short clay pipes of a full complement
of gentlemen passengers, scarcely one of whom seemed
to have passed his twentieth year."

Besides pipes, the undergraduates were plentifully
provided with other things deemed necessary for their

192 THE COACHING ERA

comfort and well being: "The passengers were not
limited to the two-legged ones; there were four-footed
ones also. Sporting dogs, fancy dogs, ugly dogs, rat-
killing dogs, short-haired dogs, long-haired dogs, dogs
like muffs, dogs like mops, dogs of all colours, and of
all breeds and sizes, appeared thrusting out their black
noses from all parts of the coach. Portmanteaux were
piled upon the roof; gun-boxes peeped out suspiciously
here and there; bundles of sticks, canes, foils, fishing-
•ods, and whips appeared strapped together in every
diredlion; then all round the coach,

'Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads,'

hat-boxes dangled in leathery profusion. The Oxford
coach, on an occasion like this, was a sight to be remem-
bered."

"Are you the two houtside gents for Hoxfut?"
inquired the coachman in the husky voice peculiar to
a dram-drinker.

Mr. Green replying in the affirmative, he and Verdant
took their seats on the back part of the coach.

The undergraduates, "dressed in every variety of
Oxford fashion, and exhibiting a pleasing diversity of
Oxford manners," regarded the new-comers critically,
and summed them up thus:

"Decided case of governor," said one.

"Undoubted ditto of freshman!" commented another.

"Looks ferociously mild in his gig-lamps," remarked
a third, alluding to Verdant's spedlacles.

"And jolly green all over," wound up a fourth.

a
<
o

as
u

THE AMATEURS 193

Mr. Green did not enjoy the journey; he hated
smoke and dogs, and had far too much of both, but
when the undergraduate on the box took possession of
the reins his unhappiness was complete.

The new driver put the team along at a spanking
pace; started downhill at a quick trot, the heavy luggage
causing the coach to rock ominously; the trot merged
into a canter; the canter broke into a gallop. Mr.
Green's fears so wrought on him that he remonstrated
with the coachman for suffering "a mere lad," he was
about to say, but fortunately checked himself in time —
"for suffering anyone else than the regular driver to
have the charge of the coach."

The coachman answered that he knew his duty to
himself and his proprietors, and never gave up the
ribbons to anyone "but wot had showed hisself fitted to
'andle 'em. And I think I may say this for the genelman
as has got 'em now, that he's fit to be first whip to the
Queen herself, and I'm proud to call him my poople.
Why, sir — if his honour here will pardon me for makin'
60 free — this 'ere gent is Four-in-Hand Fosbrooke, of
which you must have heerd on."

Mr. Green replied that he had not had that pleasure.

"Ah! a pleasure you may call it, sir, with perfeft
truth," replied the coachman, "but, lor' bless me, sir,
weer can you have lived?"

To add to Mr. Green's discomfort little Mr. Bouncer
whiled away the time by producing weird and un-
pleasant post-horn effedfs, which he called "sounding his
odlaves;" moreover, he destroyed the cheerful airs
13

194 THE COACHING ERA

played on the guard's key-bugle, by Joining in with
his horn at improper times, and with discordant results.

Further cause for disquietude had Mr. Green, for he
observed that the undergraduates who were destined
to be the innocent Verdant's friends evinced "a great
capacity for the beer of Bass, and the porter of Guinness,
and were not averse even to liquids of a more spirituous
description. Moreover, Mr. Green remarked that the
ministering Hebes were invariably addressed by their
Christian names, and were familiarly conversed with as
old acquaintances; most of them receiving direct offers
of marriage, or the option of putting up the banns on
any Sunday in the middle of the week."

When Woodstock was reached, Four-in-Hand Fos-
brooke resigned the ribbons to the professional coach-
man, whilst Mr. Bouncer in deference to the scruples
of a sensitive University put away his post-horn, and
consoled himself by chanting the following song chosen
in compliment to the undoubted freshness of Mr.
Verdant Green:

"To Oxford, a Freshman so modest,

I entered one morning in March;
And the figure I cut was the oddest —

All spedlacles, choker and starch,

Whack fol lol, lol iddity, etc.

From the top of the Royal Defiance,

Jack Adams, who coaches so well,
Set me down in these regions of science

In front of the Mitre Hotel,

Whack fol lol, lol iddity, etc.

THE AMATEURS 195

'Sure never man's prospeds were brighter;'

I said, as I jump'd from my perch;
'So quickly arrived at the Mitre,

Oh, I'm sure to get on in the Church!'
Whack fol lol, lol iddity, etc.

CHAPTER XIII ACCIDENTS

THE accidents which occurred to the mail-
and stage-coaches were many, and alarm-
ingly frequent. When the railways menaced
the popularity of the road, the old coachmen,
with a calm ignoring of aftual fa6ts, endeavoured to
point out the terrific dangers of the new system by
remarking darkly: "When a coach upsets there you are,
but when a train upsets where are you?" This sounded
impressively convincing, but is scarcely borne out by a
perusal of the old newspapers, from whence it appears
that though the most likely place for inside passengers
in a coach accident was underneath the coach, and the
"outsides" among the plunging horses, yet there were
many other means whereby passengers could break their
legs, or imperil the safety of their necks. Coaches fell
down chalk-pits, overturned into rivers, were buried
in snow-drifts, ran into each other, and capsized in every
conceivable manner.

One unlucky Friday no less than four of the northern
coaches upset, and the passengers on the Glasgow mail
had a miraculous escape when passing over a narrow
bridge at Kirby Thore. The night was dark, the bridge
dangerously narrow, and the coach going at full speed.
Just as the bridge was reached, one of the leaders
swerved, the coach rocked, struck the low parapet,
and fell right over into the river. The passengers
struggled frantically in the darkness, one gentleman

displaying great bravery, rescued a lady and child from

196

ACCIDENTS 197

the Inside of the coach. All reached land eventually,
but one of the horses was drowned, and the mare who
had caused the accident so badly injured that she had
to be shot. The guard's leg was hurt, but that did not
prevent him going forward with his mails, riding one of
the surviving horses to Appleby, six and a half miles
distant. There he hired a chaise and experienced fresh
adversity, for before he had gone any distance one of
the wheels came off and he was thrown out on to the
road.

Water in any form was the particular terror of all
inside passengers, for when the floods were out, the
water frequently came into the coach, and obliged the
unhappy "insides" to stand on the seats in a cramped
position necessitated by the lowness of the roof, where
they grievously bewailed their unhappy situation and
expected every moment to be drowned.

A great number of accidents were caused by parts
of the coach being defedlive, or rotten harness unequal
to any sudden strain. One of the wheels of the Rocking-
ham coach came off with a suddenness that precipitated
both coachman and guard on to the road. The horses
took fright and went off at full speed, passing several
waggons, and through the toll-gates without any
collision, though the coach was sometimes sustained by
its three remaining wheels, and sometimes by the axle-
tree. The coach was eventually stopped by a gentleman
who jumped from his gig, and seized the leaders as they
were going uphill at a somewhat less devastating pace.
There were seven outside passengers when the accident

198 THE COACHING ERA

happened; five of them jumped off the coach and
sustained serious injuries, whilst the inside passengers
who retained their seats escaped unhurt.

The fore axle of the Worcestershire Telegraph broke
at the bottom of Hanwell hill, and the coach upset
with a crash. The coachman and passengers were all
seriously injured; two ladies so badly that little hope
was entertained of their recovery. One gentleman,
intrepid by nature, or callous by experience, had his
collar-bone broken, but directly it was set continued his
journey by another coach.

Broken reins were responsible for what might have
been a very serious accident to the Bentham mail;
when near Quernmore Park, one of the leaders shied
violently and nearly upset the coach. The coachman
endeavoured to steady his team, but the reins snapped,
and the horses dashed off at full gallop, whilst the coach
rocked from side to side, and seemed in imminent danger
of overturning. The coachman threw himself from his
box, the three outside passengers scrambled over the
roof and jumped off the back of the coach, thereby
sustaining various sprains and concussions. The turnpike
man saw the coach coming with the runaway team and
no driver, and promptly shut the gates. One of the
leaders jumped the wall between the toll-house and the
gates, but his companions not being like-minded remained
on the other side, and the coach came to a standstill.
There was one inside passenger, a lady, who kept her
seat throughout, and escaped uninjured. A Bath
coach upset at Marlborough, resulted in a broken leg

ACCIDENTS 199

apiece for Jack Everett, the coachman, and a lady-
passenger. Willing helpers placed the two victims side
by side in a wheelbarrow and trundled them off to the
nearest dodlor. Jack Everett stole a glance at his com-
panion. She was neither young nor comely. He looked
again. Not so ill favoured after all. "I've often kissed
a young woman," said the coachman, "so why shouldn't
I kiss an old one?" And kiss her he did too, full and fair,
in the eyes of all beholders.

Many disasters were due to culpable carelessness on
the part of coachmen, who saw red when the opposition
coach came in sight, and cared little what risks they ran
so long as they distanced their hated rival. In particular
they grudged the time taken to put on the drag, and
coachmen on speed-breaking records bent would go
downhill at a reckless pace trusting on the wheelers to
hold the coach back, with the very frequent result that
accidents happened, and bones were broken instead of
records.

An accident attributable to this cause occurred to
the Halifax Hope in 1836, when the coach was heavily
laden with passengers and luggage. The coachman
urged his horses forward at a great rate, and started to
descend a steep hill without moderating his pace. Half-
way down the horses became unmanageable, the coach
reeled from side to side and finally overturned. The
coachman and guard were picked up insensible, two
gentlemen killed, and all the passengers badly hurt.

The Phoenix and the Dart entered into competition
between Patcham and Brighton, the driver of the Dart

200 THE COACHING ERA

being determined at all costs to pass the Phoenix, and
the coachman of the Phcenix being equally determined
that he should not; the unhappy passengers despaired of
ever beholding Brighton, the Pavilion, or the Prince
Regent again. The race ended by coaches, horses,
passengers, and luggage coming together with a crash,
and it was undeniably a "case," that being the polite
term by which the coachmen referred to a thorough bad
upset.

In Nimrod's The Life of a Sportsman^ James Howell
of the Birmingham day coach, who is thinly disguised
as Jem Powell, gives an account of the heartless behaviour
of an opposition coach:

"A gentleman comes up to me t'other day, and
says: 'Jem, what will you take me to Birmingham for?'
'My fare, sir,' said I, 'is fifteen shillings.' 'I can go
by the Rora (Aurora),' said he, 'for ten.' 'No doubt
sir,' I replied, 'but then there's the doctor's bill!'

"He went with me that very day they had an accident
with the Rora."

"Of what description?" asked Lord Edmonston.

"They was a galloping, my lord, against the opposition
which was behind them, and over they went."

"And was anyone hurt?"

"Several, my lord."

"Of course the opposition stopped to afford assist-
ance to the passengers?"

"Not a bit of it, my lord; one gentleman told me that
as he was in the adl of rolling away from the coach he
heard the opposition coachman sing out to the other
as he galloped by — 'What Joe, your bees are swarming
this fine morning, are they?'"

ACCIDENTS 201

There were innumerable instances of horses starting
when the coachman was absent from the box, and,
though coaches were occasionally upset thereby, it is a
remarkable tribute to the sagacity of the horses that
more often than not they trotted soberly along till they
reached the next stage, where they drew up at the
accustomed halting place. The "outsides" had in the
meanwhile hurled themselves into space, and injured
themselves in divers ways, while the "insides" verified
the proverb that ignorance is bliss, and were perfedlly
unaware that anything untoward had happened.

The Exeter mail met with an experience unique
in coaching annals. One night in October 1816 the
coach left Salisbury as usual and proceeded on its
lonely way over Salisbury Plain. Presently a large
animal crept out of the darkness and trotted along beside
the horses. It being impossible to see the creature with
any distinftness, there was some speculation as to its
kind, but the coachman and guard eventually agreed
that it was a calf. The horses did not like it whatever
it was, and became more and more nervous and excited.

The mail drew up at Winterslow Hut to deliver the
mail-bags, and instantly the strange animal sprang
upon the off leader, and revealed itself to be not a calf,
but a full-grown lioness. Instantly all was confusion,
the horses plunged in extremity of terror and threatened
every moment to overturn the coach. The coachman,
a brave man who could not see his horse killed before his
eyes, drew out his knife and prepared to attack the
lioness with that ineffeftive weapon. The guard besought

202 THE COACHING ERA

him to abstain from such rashness, and drawing out his
own blunderbuss was about to fire it off with a grim
determination to kill something when voices were heard
and a mastiff dog rushed up.

The lioness leaving the horse turned on the dog and
for some moments they fought furiously; then some men
appeared and the lioness hearing her keeper's voice slunk
off and hid in a hovel under a granary where she was
soon captured. It turned out that she belonged to a
travelling showman, whose caravans had been broken
into by thieves, who either by accident or design per-
mitted the lioness to escape.

The outside passengers retained their seats throughout
the encounter, but the "insides" fled precipitately
into the inn, and never rested till they reached a room
at the top of the house, where they locked themselves
in.

The unfortunate horse was so badly injured that
it was at first thought necessary to destroy it, but the
showman, who saw the chance of a good advertisement,
asked permission to buy it, and after careful nursing it
recovered, and was exhibited in company with the lioness.

Another animal was responsible for an accident to
a Cambridge coach, though instead of being a wild
beast, it was in that case a mild and inoffensive donkey,
who saw the coach coming towards him, and wishing to
show that he had as much right to the public road as a
coach and four, suddenly lay down and rolled, kicking
up such a cloud of dust that the coach horses, who
objedled to donkeys at any time, were fairly panic

S .3

I*;

^i.

ACCIDENTS 203

stricken, and in their dismay took the coach into a
ditch.

The state of the weather had an appreciable effect
on the number of coaching accidents. Fog was the thing
most dreaded hy coachmen, for when walls of inky
blackness surrounded the coach, and rendered the
leaders almost indistinguishable, it was no easy task to
keep the coach on the road. When the metropolis was
enveloped in the yellow haze of a London fog, the mails
used to be escorted out of town by men on horseback
carrying torches, to enable the coachmen to discern the
track at all. On such occasions progress was necessarily
slow, and the string of coaches crawling one behind the
other sometimes took three hours to get from London
to Hounslow.

During a hard winter when England was in the grip
of regular arftic weather, with ice on the Thames, and
birds perishing from the intense cold, the streets of
London were almost deserted, and the few hackney-
carriages which ventured out were drawn by four
horses, whilst the situation of the coaches in the pro-
vinces was one of extreme peril. The Post Office officials
were in a great state of mind about their mails, and at
once despatched superintendents to the country dis-
tridls with the view of helping those guards whose
coaches were unable to proceed. From all sides came
reports of dangers and disasters.

The Wisbech coach was buried in a snow-drift;
the guard took one of the horses and struggled forward
with the mails, but before he had gone any distance he

204 THE COACHING ERA

fell into another drift, from which he escaped with
much difficulty, and his horse died of suffocation before
help could be obtained.

The Edinburgh mail bravely started on its return
journey, but, though it had the assistance of eight
waggon horses besides its own team, it could get no
farther than Royston. The Liverpool mail overturned
near Lichfield, and the Leeds coach gave up the attempt
at Dunstable.

The Newmarket road was so blocked with snow
near Bournbridge that the up and down mails stuck
fast within sight of each other, and the coachmen and
guards had to carry the mails and luggage across the
snow. The up and down Yarmouth coaches were
similarly situated at Saxmundham, whilst one coach was
stuck at Walton, and another abandoned near Lowestoft.

Many of the abandoned coaches were buried beneath
the snow, so that three months later the Post Office
sent out the following circular:

"Several mail coaches being still missing that were
obstrufted in the snow since February last, this is to
desire you, you will immediately represent to me an
account of all the spare patent mail coaches that are
in the stages where you travel over, whether they are
regular stationed mail coaches or extra spare coaches,
and the exadl place where they are, either in barn,
field, yard or coach-house, and the condition they are
in, if they have seats, rugs, and windows complete."^

Coachmen and guards on all sides declared that
1 The Royal Mail. J. Wilson Hyde.

ACCIDENTS 205

their faces were numb and swollen hy the force of the
hail and snow, and that never in their lives had they
experienced such a storm, an assertion fully borne out
by a gentleman who travelled by the Chester mail:

"After leaving Northampton on Friday night we
got on tolerably well notwithstanding the violence of
the driving snow, to Broughton field from whence the
guard for two miles explored a passage for the horses
which could with difficulty be made to facejthe storm.
At Hockliff we found numerous other coaches which
were unable to proceed. We were told by a person
who had just returned with the horses that the heavy
Coventry and Chester coaches were stuck fast in the
snow on Chalk Hill.

"Dawn having broken, I with a superintendent of the
Post Office set off on horseback, and with much diffi-
culty succeeded in reaching Dunstable, where we got a
chaise with six horses and arrived in London at 12.30
on Saturday night."

Chalk Hill seems to have been a place of unenviable
notoriety in a snow-storm, for in 1808 the Liverpool
mail was unable to get up it, and the guard who brought
on the mails declared that in many places the roads
were ten or twelve feet under snow.

The same day the Gloucester and Worcester coaches
could go no farther than Benson ; the Bristol mail had
twice to be dug out of the snow, and the Exeter mail
was stopped by the passengers at Overton.

At Bury St. Edmunds there was a grand subscription
dance when one hundred and sixty persons were present,
including a number of undergraduates from Cambridge,

2o6 THE COACHING ERA

"who came in their usual style in tandems, and on
horseback, blowing horns." At four o'clock in the
morning the dance ended, and the company attempted
to depart but found to their consternation that snow
had fallen heavily all night, making the roads impassable.
Even those who resided within a few miles were unable
to get home, and beds at the various inns were at a
premium. Many ladies and gentlemen, who could not
find any accommodation, sat up the rest of the night in
the card rooms.

During the afternoon the Cambridge men with their
tandems, gigs, and trumpets made a valiant attempt
to get to their University, but were obliged to return
to Bury. The weather-bound visitors renewed the
ball for two nights, and the younger members, at any
rate, extradled a good deal of amusement out of their
novel situation.

The second day another attempt was made to get
away, and though they had to abandon their carriages
and proceed on horseback, a party managed to get as
far as Newmarket, where they were forced to remain.
Mr. Mills, the High Sheriff, reached his home near
Saxham the third day, by having his carriage preceded
by a heavy broad-wheeled waggon drawn by four horses
abreast; whilst two families residing at Rougham were
drawn across the open fields in a waggon with six
horses.

Macready travelled with his company to Newcastle
in January 1813, through a blinding snow-storm.
Between Ross Inn and Berwick-on-Tweed the drifts

ACCIDENTS 207

were so deep that for several miles men had to go on
before and cut a passage for the coach. They did not
arrive at Newcastle till two hours after midnight, and
Macready had reason to congratulate himself that he
had not delayed his journey, for the next day the snow
was so deep that the coaches ceased to run, and for
six weeks there was no means of communication between
Newcastle and Edinburgh.

People who travelled on a coach in a snow-storm
never forgot it; they were not anxious to repeat the
experience. One man started on the Regulator from
Bath at 6 a.m. on a bitter winter morning. It came
on to snow, and snowed without ceasing throughout
the day. The six horses harnessed to the coach could
hardly draw it, and though due in London at eight at
night it was three the following morning before the
Regulator laboured up to The White Horse. The
traveller attributed the fa61: that he arrived alive, to
the stiff glass of brandied coffee he imbibed at every
stage. As it was, his hands and feet were so numbed and
incapable of motion that he was hauled out of his
hammock of snow like a bale of goods. The landlady
had him carried into the kitchen, where she thawed
him gradually and administered consolation in the
shape of hot possets of her own compounding.

Passengers underwent much discomfort and anxiety
at such times, but there is no doubt they were some-
times unreasonable. Once when a blinding snow-storm
swirled round a coach, and an unhappy coachman and
guard wrestled bravely with their own numb fingers

2o8 THE COACHING ERA

and a broken pole, the box-seat passenger, plentifully
enveloped with coats and shawls, exclaimed bitterly:
"What are you fellows keeping me here in the cold for
and warming your own hands at the lamp."

A traveller in a blinding snow-storm put his head
out of the Oxonian coach and inquired of John Bayzand
if he knew where he was. Bayzand, who had lost his
bearings completely and was on the verge of losing his
temper as well, replied that if his passenger was anxious
for the truth, and nothing but the truth, he should have
it, which amounted to the fa£l that he, the coachman,
did not know where he was, and had no immediate
prospeft of finding out.

"Oh, indeed!" snorted the inside passenger in a rage,
"a nice sort of fellow you are to be entrusted with the
lives of Her Majesty's servants."

"Perhaps you will be kind enough to get out and
show me the right road," said Bayzand.

The gentleman, feeling confident that he could
perform this simple feat, immediately stepped forth,
and landed unexpe6ledly in a snow-drift, where he
cried out very lustily that he would be smothered. He
was allowed time to cool his temper and then the guard
extricated him.

The Oxonian wandered about indefinitely, till it
met a countryman, who gave the coachman the cheering
information that he was miles out of his way; that the
road ahead was blocked up and utterly impassable; and
it was exceedingly doubtful if he could get back along
the road he had come.

ACCIDENTS 209

Bayzand said he would try anyway, turned his coach
round, and after many difficulties eventually succeeded
in reaching Oxford, where the coach was snowed up for
several days.

"Coachman, do you know how much of my valuable
time you are wasting?" inquired a querulous passenger
fretted by delay. To whom the coachman replied with
dignity, "And will you please to remember, sir, that I am
losing just as much time as yourself."

A pompous clergyman received an equally effedlive
rebuke from a shepherd boy of whom he inquired the
way to Horsepath. The youth grinned but made no
reply.

"Boy," said the cleric haughtily, "do you know who
lam?"

"Noa," drawled the boy indifferently.

"I am one of those lights sent to show you the way
to heaven," said the clergyman impressively.

"Well, a nice 'un 'ee must be, an' don't know the
road to Horsepath," scoffed the shepherd boy.

CHAPTER XIV TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES

IN order to gain an accurate idea of the
pleasures and discomforts incidental to travel
when the public stage and mail coaches
constituted the only means of locomotion,
it is necessary to read the diaries written by men who
lived in those days, and who have left an account of
their experiences. Some found coaching delightful and
enjoyed themselves, others thought it hateful and were
miserable; difference of opinion usually traceable to
their own characters, the state of the weather, and the
nature of their travelling companions.

Celebrities travelling unrecognized occasionally heard
their merits and demerits discussed with considerable
freedom. Macready heard his a6ling lauded to the skies
by a fellow passenger who was transported with joy when
he found himself in such close proximity to his hero.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan found less cause for pride
returning to London from an eleClioneering campaign
in Staffordshire, where he had swallowed quarts of
Staffordshire ale, and eaten innumerable legs of pork,
mutton, and turnips, "eating his way into the confidence
of the burghers." His companions in the coach were
three gentlemen who fell to discussing the political
situation with great frankness. One, who sat opposite
Sheridan, was especially vehement, and denounced
Monckton (the present member) as "A madman or a
fool," for taking under his wing "the adventurer
Sheridan," and scandalously attempting "to bolster

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 211

him into the House of Commons." The only satis-
factory thing about the matter was that both would
for a certainty be defeated. The second passenger
sincerely hoped it might be so, but at the same time
he had an uneasy suspicion that Monckton had increased
rather than decreased his popularity by his coalition
with Sheridan.

"Who is the man?" drawled the third man.

Passenger number one immediately volunteered the
information: "A low fellow, a fit companion for horse
jockeys and grooms, so I hear:/of / don't know him, and
don't wish to know him — a fellow full of quips, jokes and
jests and vulgar jocularities."

Sheridan, taken aback at this conception of himself,
remained silent, and escaped further enlightenment
as to his charadler by the stoppage of the coach and
the appearance of the guard with the agreeable intima-
tion: "Sup here, gentlemen."

Food and drink loosened restraint, and Sheridan
entered into conversation with his companions, causing
them much merriment by his ready wit. All too soon
came the hated "Coach is ready," and as they left the
inn Sheridan took one of the gentlemen aside and
inquired the name of the man who had so bitterly
denounced him.

"That gentleman, sir, is Mr. Richard Wilson, the
eminent solicitor of Lincoln's Inn Fields."

The passengers resumed their seats, and began to
question Sheridan, whom they termed a "devilish
agreeable fellow."

212 THE COACHING ERA

"A stranger in these parts, sir?"

Sheridan — "Well, not exaftly, more generally per-
haps, than particularly known; and only waiting my
time to become better acquainted with the good men of
Staffordshire."

"Do you propose settling in this county?"

Sheridan — "That entirely depends on circumstances.
My present journey to London is connedled with that
event; but when we have to deal with lawyers we can
never calculate with any certainty on the issue."

This, as Sheridan expe6led, brought the first passage
on the carpet.

1st Passenger — "The law, sir, committed to intelli-
gent hands, and duly administered, is our only pro-
tedtion, the only security we have for our lives and
property."

Sheridan — "You must pardon me, I do not complain
of the law — I am a law abider. My complaint is of its
pra6litioners who convert the law to their own ends, and
then abuse it — who will pick the pockets of their client
with a bland smile and involve him in a suit for the sake
of the fees."

ist Passenger — "Sir, you are severe and unjust;
your remarks cannot apply to the profession generally."

Sheridan — "I shall be happy if you will supply me
with a case where I may be proved in error."

1st Passenger — "Many, sir — many."

Sheridan — "I presume you think so. But let me
state a case in proof of my argument; and which, I think,
will cover the whole of the fraternity. There is a low
fellow who keeps his office in Lincoln's Inn Fields, high
in his profession, who will sneak into your title deeds

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 213

and absorb the rental: he will not pick a pocket, but,
soaring high for nobler game, hungering for a fee, will
hy his quirks and quidlebets, his chancery bills and his
subtle pleas, corrupt the law; defeat the ends of justice,
and drive his miserable beggared client to suicide or the
mad-house."

1st Passenger (greatly excited) — "Name, sir, name.
I know no such praditioner in Lincoln's Inn Fields:
respe6lab]e men, sir — all respeftable men."

Sheridan — (with pretended reluftance) — "I do not
think I could justify myself in naming the man, /or / do
not know him, and I do not wish to know him; but since
you desire it, I shall freely give you his name, leaving it
to himself to absolve it of the calumny. His name, sir,
is Richard Wilson."

1st Passenger (gathering himself up in insulted
dignity) — "I, sir, am Richard Wilson."

Sheridan — "Indeed ! why then we are quits, for
I am Richard Brinsley Sheridan."

"The devil you are!" roared passenger number three,
suddenly seeing the humour of the situation. The others
joined in, and laughed immoderately at the neat manner
in which Mr. Richard Wilson had been hoist with his
own petard. The utmost good fellowship then prevailed
for the rest of the journey and, in the lawyer, Sheridan
gained a friend who stood by him to the end of his life.

Very similar was the case of Sydney Smith, who
said, "Most people sulk in stage-coaches; I always talk."
True to this principle he conversed amicably with a
fellow passenger to York, who on nearing the city re-
marked: "There is a very clever man, they say, but a
d odd fellow, lives near here — Sydney Smith."

214 THE COACHING ERA

"He may be very odd," assented the gentleman thus
spoken of, taking off his hat and making a profound
bow, "I dare say he is, but odd as he is, he is here, very
much at your service."

"Poor man! I thought he would have sunk into
his boots and vanished through the bed of the carriage,
he was so distressed," commented Sydney Smith, adding
with his accustomed humour, "but I thought I had
better tell him, or he might proceed to say I had
murdered my grandmother, which I must have re-
sented, you know."

As he was going on a visit to Lord Brougham, by a
night coach, two Scotch girls got in at Carlisle, one
remarking as she arranged her bandboxes: "It's very
disagreeable getting into a coach in the dark, it's im-
possible to see one's company."

"Very true, ma'am, and you have a great loss in
not seeing me, for I am a remarkably handsome man,"
responded Sydney Smith with much promptitude.

"No, sir! Are you really?" exclaimed the ladies,
pleasurable excited.

"Yes, and in the flower of my youth," cheerfully
lied Sydney Smith, who was elderly and fat. The coach
passed a street lamp, and the girls caught a brief and
indistin^l: vision of the bulky form opposite them.

"La, sir, you seem very stout," said one doubtfully.

"Oh no, not at all, ma'am, it's only my greatcoat,"
he assured her earnestly.

"Where are you going, sir?" was the next inquiry.

"To Brougham Hall."

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 215

This made a sensation.

"Why you must be a very remarkable man to be going
to Brougham Hall!"

"I am a very remarkable man, ma'am," Sydney Smith
confirmed.

The ladies asked many more questions, vainly tried
to discover their companion's name, and, as it was still
dark when they left the coach, they did so under the
impression that they had left behind them a perfeft
Adonis, and a nobleman at least.

Charles Matthews, the comedian, likewise used his
inventive faculties for the bewilderment of fellow
travellers, for on the way to Portsmouth he took it
into his head to pretend that he was a madman. His
companion, entering into the joke, posed as his keeper,
and gravely informed the landlord of the inn where they
halted that his friend, a major in the army, had been
wounded in the head in Spain, which had quite deranged
him. Matthews afted the part of madman so realistically
that the people at the inn were terrified out of their
lives. In the midst of the general excitement Lord
Ormond arrived, and as a treat was allowed to have a
peep at the lunatic, carrying on in an amazing manner.
Lord Ormond recognized the aftor, and nearly betrayed
him, but, managing to control himself, he played up to
Matthews and his friend in a manner which caused
infinite merriment to all three.

Matthews' profession necessitated much moving
about from place to place, and in consequence he had
intimate acquaintance with the coaches of the time.

2i6 THE COACHING ERA

That he placed implicit faith in the morals and maxims
contained in Dr. Kitchiner's Traveller's Oracle^ can be
gathered from the account of a journey to Liverpool
in 1823.

Of his companions he wrote in no measured terms:
"Three great hulking rascals, and afraid of the cold,
pretty dears!" Have the windows open they would not.
"There was no possibility of getting a breath of air,
but by quarrelling. Not even the commonplace polite-
ness of a coach traveller was practised. Would it be
agreeable to have this window u-pP'^ No, up it went. I
watched them to sleep, stole it down. In a few minutes
up! — and down again; and so on, without a word.

"If this goes on I shall be smothered," thought
Charles Matthews — then he remembered the "Oracle";
that invaluable work provided for just such a con-
tingency. Seeing that the " pretty dears" were three
to one, he hesitated to follow Dr. Kitchiner's advice,
anent breaking the vdndow, too literally, but when the
coach halted at the next stage, he got out and whispered
his plan to the willing ears of an Irishman whose seat
was on the roof.

Paddy assented rapturously, and when clambering
back to his place, "accidentally" kicked his boot right
through one of the coach windows! Fresh air in
plenty then, and Matthews hugged himself delightedly.
Arrived at his destination, and no longer obliged to keep
unwilling company with the three "pretty dears," he
desired to reveal his duplicity, and calling for the guard,
paid him the price of the broken pane. "The faces of

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 217

the party would have been a subje6l for Wilkie; par-
ticularly the Irishman and the guard, who evidently
had a perception of the humorous."

The question as to whether the window should be
open or shut, always a nice one, gave rise to a laughable
encounter in a North Mail one cold winter's night.
Charles Matthews, who said that he never entered
a coach without encountering "either a baby in arms,
a sick child, or a man in consumption," found to his
delight that there were only two occupants, an English-
man and a Scotsman, who seated opposite each other
left him the fourth place for his legs, a luxury greatly
to be appreciated on a night journey. Matthews put
up his feet, the Englishman wrapped himself up in a
shawl, the Scotsman enveloped his head and shoulders
in enormous folds of white linen, and their several
preparations finished they all dropped off to sleep.

Suddenly the coach stopped with a jolt that shook
them into half wakefulness. They had halted in front of
a small inn, and a convivial party was bidding one of
their number an uproarious but cordial farewell. He
for his part shouted them "Good-night" in stentorian
tones, and exhorted them to remember that he had
paid his share of the reckoning.

Then, to the wrath of the three insides, the guard
opened the door and in came a huge Yorkshire drover,
his coat covered with snow. Instindlively they all drew
back from the damp stranger, who, ignorant of the
whereabouts of the vacant seat, and slightly muddled
as to his senses, stumbled about in his endeavours to

2i8 THE COACHING ERA

find it. He trod on the toes of the other passengers,
lurched up against them, only to be pushed off with
much vigour, till Matthews, with a particularly vicious
thrust, caused him to sit down in the fourth place.

The aftor and his two companions all indignant
and aggrieved at the intrusion, pulled up their wraps
and once more composed themselves for sleep. This
was not to be, for the drover, taking hold of the window-
pull, demanded loudly: "Coompany! oop or down?"

Answer made they none.

Anxious to do the agreeable he again inquired:
"Coompany! oop or down?" Still no one answered. A
smothered oath bespoke his indignation at such dis-
courteous treatment, and he demanded in some ex-
asperation: "Dom it! I say, Coompany — oop or down?"

The other three, seething with wrath, would not
deign to notice his existence, and with a "dom it," he
let the window remain down. The cold night air
rushing in made his companions shiver, but they were
prepared to endure any sufferings rather than speak
to the hated intruder.

For a short time he was silent, then suddenly he saw
something which astonished him; when he entered the
inn early in the evening he had left a world green and
brown with the neutral tints of winter, now the ground
was white; the change struck him as miraculous and he
exclaimed:

"Eh! ma God! what's this? Whoight! the whole
country's covered wi' snow — Eh! it's awful. Coompany —
wake up and see th' snow! Eh! they're all asleep. Good

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 219

God! whoight it's wonderful and awful. Good Lord,
what a noight — what a noight. Eh! God presarve all
poor mariners on the Western coast this noight."

It struck him as so astounding, that he determined
his fellow travellers should look at it, and roared out
with increased vehemence — "Coompany! Eh! they're
dead, I reckon. Eh! my God! what a noight. Awful!"

So he went on till the English gentleman became
frenzied and spoke: "I wish, sir, you would show some
feeling for us, and hold your tongue. We were all asleep
when you came in, and you've done nothing but talk
and disturb us ever since. You are a positive nuisance,''''

"Eh!" exclaimed the drover surprised, "I loike that,
indeed! Aw've as much roight here I reckon as others —
dom av've paid, haven't I?"

Hearing no confirmation for these statements, the
sense of injustice rose in him, and he proceeded to
recount his claims for consideration.

"Aw'm a respeftable mon — my name's John Luckie —
I owes nobody onything — I pays King's taxes — I'm a
respedlable mon, I say. Aw help to support Church and
State."

On he went with all the senseless swagger of cup
valour and self-laudation, till once more the Englishman
gave vent to anger, and the huge drover again summed
up his title to respeft.

"Eh! dom!— what have I done? I coom'd into t'coich
loike a gentleman — didn't I? I was civil — wasn't I?
I said Coompany, oop or down. But ye none o' ye had
the politeness to answer! Ye were not loike gentlemen!

220 THE COACHING ERA

Dom! I'm a respeftable mon Aw say — I've no book
larning,but I pays King's taxes, my name's John Luckie."
His sense of oppression became so strong that he boldly
declared he would not hold his tongue, nor be quiet.
*'No, not if Baron Hullock^ or the great Mr. Brougham^
were in t'coich."

This gave Charles Matthews an idea, and leaning
forward he said softly and confidentially, "Hush! you are
not aware that you have been speaking all this time to
Baron Hullock himself!"

This dismayed the Yorkshire man considerably:
"Whoigh, you don't say so?"

"Fadl, I assure you," said Matthews hugely delighted,
"and," pointing to the Scotsman with his white
drapery, "Opposite him is Lady Hullock."

John Luckie was staggered. "Whoigh! Good God,
don't tell me that\ Eh! what shall I do\ Good Lord!
what have I said? Art thou sure?"

"I am indeed," said Mr. Matthews impressively, "they
are Baron and Lady Hullock — and I am Mr. Brougham."

John Luckie went all to pieces.

"Eh!" he roared in terror, struggling with the coach
door, "Let me go! Let me go! I'm no coompany for
sitch gentlefolks; aw've no book larning; I'm no but
John Luckie. Let me get out — here guard! Stop!
Stop! I warn't roide here any longer!"

In his struggle he inconvenienced the other passengers,
and Charles Matthews added to his terror by imitating
the cry of a hurt child.

^ Baron of the Exchequer. ^ Lord Chancellor.

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 221

' "Eh, ma God! what is there a bairn in t'coach too?
Eh, my Lord Baron, pray forgive me, I meant no offence.
My name's John Luckie. Aw'm a respedlable mon, aw
pays King's taxes, I said Coompany oop or down. I
meant to be civil. Eh! my Lady HuUock, I hope aw've
not hurt thy bairn."

The child's cries increased; so did John Luckie's
panic. "Eh! my poor bairn, where art thee? Dom\
what moost I do? Guard! stop and let me out! Eh!
what a noight! Guard! I'm no fit coompany for Baron
HuUock and Mr. Brougham, I know. Let me out, I say."

At last the coachman did stop, and out rolled John
Luckie begging the Baron and his lady and Mr.
Brougham to overlook his mistake. He mounted to the
roof, and as the coach went on its way the inside
passengers ever and anon heard phrases of John Luckie's
conversation as he related his adventures to the coach-
man and guard. "Baron HuUock — Respedlable mon —
Mr. Bruffen — Awful noight! Oop or down! — King's
taxes "

At the time when the first Balloon Ascents were
causing great sensation, Matthews came down in the
Liverpool coach, and among his fellow passengers was
Sadler, the aeronaut. At Wolverhampton an outside
passenger beckoned to Matthews, and said mysteri-
ously: "Do you know wha's 'at inside t'coach?"

The adlor shook his head.

"Why, Sadler, the Aurora.'"

Mr. Incledon, a friend of Charles Matthews, was
a person of great eccentricity and caused considerable

222 THE COACHING ERA

embarrassment to his friend. Being on a coach soon
after the death of his wife, he evinced great interest in a
fellow passenger apparently in the last stage of con-
sumption. On leaving the coach he said to him: "My
good man, we're going to leave you. It's my opinion,
my poor fellow, that you are bespoke; you're now, I
take it, as good as ready money to the undertaker. In
faft, you're booked, so there, there's a seven-shilling
piece for you, my good man, and when you go to heaven
and see my sainted Jane, pray tell her you saw me, and
that I'm well."

On a coach journey one hot summer day Mr. Incledon
was annoyed and terrified whenever a wasp entered
the carriage. The journey lasted forty miles, but he
could not be dissuaded from the firm conviftion that it
was the same wasp, who travelled the whole distance
with the express purpose of alarming him.

"There's that cursed wasp again!" he would exclaim,
and try, with many imprecations to destroy it, to the
considerable disgust of a grave taciturn man who
occupied a seat in the coach. Presently this gentleman
fell asleep, and a wasp entering the coach Mr. Incledon
redoubled his efforts to catch it. At last it settled on
the face of the sleeper. Mr. Incledon caught his breath,
lifted his hand, and brought it down with earnest
violence on the face of the somnolent passenger, ex-
claiming triumphantly: "Ha! d — n you. I've done for
you now!" The gentleman so unceremoniously awakened
rose up in wrath, and even with the mangled yellow
corpse on his cheek as evidence, and Incledon's earnest

< t

8 "^

o ^

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 223

assertions and many additional oaths, he could scarcely
be convinced that it was not a deliberate attempt on
his life.

Incledon, always extremely fastidious concerning
his food, usually made dire6l for the larder the moment
the coach stopped at an inn, and once while the horses
were being changed he chanced to see a loin o^ pork
upon which he set his affections. Going up to the land-
lord, a portly, independent person, he requested leave
to purchase the delicacy to take on with him.

The landlord refused, saying the loin was destined
to appear on the table for a coach which dined at the
inn later in the day. This denial inflamed Incledon's
anxiety, and he begged the landlord to let him have it
at the price it would be charged to the dinner customers.

" No," said the landlord.

"At double the price, then?" coaxed Incledon.

"No."

Incledon grew desperate, and pulling all the loose
silver out of his pocket he begged the landlord to take
it and give him the coveted piece of pork.

"No," said the landlord, and Incledon nearly wept.

Charles Matthews, ashamed of his friend's childish
behaviour, walked off not waiting to see the end of
the transaction. When they resumed their journey, Mr.
Incledon took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dis-
played the uncooked piece of pork triumphantly.

"What, you prevailed at last, how did you manage
to coax that surly fellow out of it?" said Matthews.

"Charles Matthews?" replied Mr. Incledon solemnly,

224 THE COACHING ERA

"I did not prevail; my dear boy, the man was a brute.
I offered him all the silver in my pocket. I had set my
heart upon the thing, my dear Charles Matthews. I
couldn't have eaten anything else, my dear boy, so what
do you think I did? Don't be angry, Charles, don't be
angry; a man like yourself can have no idea what I feel,
who want little delicacies to keep up my stamina. My
dear Charles, the man was unfeeling, nothing could
move him; I waited till he left the door and then I went
into the larder and took the pork, and left double the
value in its place!"

Mrs. Carlyle, in a letter to a friend, describes her
coaching experiences in September 1836.

"I got into the mail the other night with as much
repugnance and trepidation as if it had been a Phalaris'
brazen bull, instead of a Christian vehicle, invented for
purposes of mercy — not of cruelty. There were three
besides myself when we started, but two dropped off
at the end of the first stage, and the rest of the way
I had as usual half the coach to myself. My fellow
passenger had that highest of terrestrial qualities,
which for me a fellow passenger can possess — he was
silent. I think his name was Roscoe, and he read sundry
long papers to himself, with the pondering air of a
lawyer.

"We breakfasted at Lichfield at five in the morning,
on muddy coffee and scorched toast, which made me
once more lyrically recognize in my heart (not without
a sigh of regret) the very different coffee and toast with
which you helped me out of my headache. At two
there was another stop for ten minutes, that might be
employed in lunching or otherwise. Feeling myself

TRAVELLERS' EXPERIENCES 225

more fevered than hungry, I determined on spending
the time in combing my hair, and washing my face
and hands with vinegar. In the midst of this solacing
operation I heard what seemed to be the mail running
its rapid course, and quick as lightning it flashed on me,
*There it goes! and my luggage is on the top of it, and
my purse is in the pocket of it, and here am I stranded
on an unknown beach, without so much as a sixpence
in my pocket to pay for the vinegar I have already
consumed!' Without my bonnet, my hair hanging
down my back, my face half dried, and the towel with
which I was drying it firmly grasped in my hand, I
dashed out — along, down, opening wrong doors,
stumbling over steps, cursing the day I was born, still
more the day on which I took a notion to travel, and
arrived finally at the bar of the inn, in a state of excite-
ment bordering on lunacy. The barmaids looked on me
with wonder and amazement. 'Is the coach gone?' I
gasped out. 'The coach? yes!' 'Oh, and you have let it
go away without me! Oh! stop it, cannot you stop it?'
and out I rushed into the street, with streaming hair
and streaming towel, and almost brained myself against —
the mail! which was standing there in all stillness,
without so much as horses in it! What I heard was a
heavy coach. And now, having descended like a maniac,
I ascended again like a fool, and dried the other half of
my face, and put on my bonnet, and came back a sadder
and wiser woman."

In the year 1830 speculation as to the railway was
rife, and Charles Lamb travelled with a talkative gentle-
man who for twenty miles discussed "the probable
advantages of steam carriages." Lamb knew nothing of
the subjeft, but as it was one in which wild speculation
15

226 THE COACHING ERA

and vivid imagination might v^^ell pass for erudition he
sustained his part with credit, and the gentleman
"thought he had met with a well-informed passenger,
which is an accident so desirable on a stage-coach."

Unfortunately, when the topic of railways was
exhausted he changed the subje6l with some suddenness
by asking "the probability of its turning out a good
turnip season." Lamb, "not knowing a turnip from a
potato," replied glibly, and with seeming irrelevance:
"I believe it depends very much upon boiled legs of
mutton." A reply which astounded the gentleman and
set the other passengers laughing.

CHAPTER XV TWO FOREIGNERS ON

COACHING

TWO good accounts of stage-coach travelling
— one for and the other against — were written
by foreigners, who regarded English customs
with interested and critical eyes. Both, being
possessed of fluent pens, wrote vivid accounts of their
journeys and their associates by the way. The men were
Charles Moritz, a Prussian clergyman who visited
England in 1782, and considered coaching abhorrent;
and Washington Irving, an American, who came over
in 1 815, and saw in the stage-coach a joyous and delightful
thing.

Moritz was the forerunner of the modern tourist,
for he came to England on a brief visit, determined
to probe our national charafter to the depths. He noted
down everything that struck him as new or unusual,
for the edification of his Prussian friends. Though his
feelings on the subjeft speedily changed, he was at first
diisposed to regard the stage-coaches rather favourably.

"Yesterday afternoon I had the luxury, for the first
time, of being driven in an English stage. These coaches
are, at least in the eyes of a foreigner, quite elegant,
lined in the inside; and with two seats large enough
to accommodate six persons; but it must be owned,
when the carriage is full, the company are rather
crowded.

"At the White Hart from whence the coach sets

out, there was, at first, only an elderly lady who got

in, but as_^we drove along, it was soon filled, and mostly

237

228 THE COACHING ERA

by ladies, there being only one more gentleman and
myself. The conversation of the ladies among them-
selves, who appeared to be a little acquainted with
each other, seemed to me to be but very insipid and
tiresome."

"The gentleman, by way of introducing an appro-
priate topic, proceeded to relate hair raising stories
of the different robberies which had been committed
in the neighbourhood through which the coach was
then passing. These blood curdling revelations alarmed
the ladies, when the gentleman by way of soothing
their fears, and at the same time proving to Moritz
the incalculable superiority of everything English,
dilated at length on 'the greatness of soul' displayed by
English thieves compared to their low counterparts
on the Continent.

"But to return to our stage," says Moritz, after
making copious notes on highwaymen, "I must observe,
that they have here a curious way of riding, not in, but
upon the stage-coach. Persons to whom it is not con-
venient to pay a full price, instead of the inside, sit
on the top of the coach, without any seats or even a
rail. By what means passengers thus fasten themselves
securely on the roof of the vehicles, I know not; but
you constantly see numbers seated there, apparently
at their ease, and in perfedl safety.

"This they call riding on the outside; for which they
pay only half as much as those pay who are within:
we had at present six of these passengers over our heads,
who, when we alighted, frequently made such a noise
and bustle, as sometimes almost frightened us. He who
can properly balance himself, rides not incommodiously
on the outside; and in the summer time, in fine weather,
on account of the prospers, it certainly is more pleasant
than it is inside, excepting that the company is generally

TWO FOREIGNERS ON COACHING 229

low, and the dust Is likewise more troublesome than in
the inside, where, at any rate, you may draw up the
windows according to your pleasure."

Moritz paid two shillings as coach fare from London
to Richmond, from whence after a short visit he started
to walk to Oxford on foot. He met with such scant
civility at the inns and villages on the road that he
came to the conclusion that the English were not a
nation of shopkeepers but of horsemen:

"To what various, singular, and unaccountable
fatalities and adventures are not foot-travellers exposed
in this land of carriages and horses! ... A traveller on
foot in this country seems to be considered a sort of
wild man, or out-of-the-way being, who is stared at,
pitied, suspe6led, and shunned by everybody that meets
him. At least this has hitherto been my case, on the
road from Richmond to Windsor."

Moritz put up at the Mitre Hotel in Oxford where
he was well treated though he came on foot, but he
attributed this to the fa6l that, after a convivial evening
with some exceedingly jovial clergymen, he in a moment
of expansion told the waiter that he must not think
that because he arrived on foot he would tip less, but
quite the contrary.

Moritz decided not to expose himself to any more
insults as a pedestrian, so took a place in the Birmingham
stage-coach. He had for a companion a young officer
who was going to pay a visit to his three sisters at school
in Birmingham. Outside the coach were some soldiers

230 THE COACHING ERA

and their wives, and Moritz was much concerned for
the women's safety. That the danger of their position
was very real, he shortly afterwards proved, for when
the time came to return to London he took a place
on the roof of the Northampton coach, and soon
repented the rashness that had led him to trust himself
in such a perilous position.

"But this ride from Leicester to Northampton, I
shall remember as long as I live," he wrote tragically.
"The coach drove from the yard through a part of the
house. The inside passengers got in, in the yard; but
we on the outside were obliged to clamber up in the
public street, because we should have had no room for
our heads to pass under the gateway. My companions
on the top of the coach were a farmer, a young man
very decently dressed, and a black-a-moor.

"The getting up alone was at the risk of one's life,
and when I was up I was obliged to sit just at the corner
of the coach, with nothing to hold by, but a sort of
little handle,^ fastened on the side. I sat nearest the
wheel; and the moment that we set off, I fancied that I
saw certain death await me. All I could do was to
take still safer hold of the handle, and to be more and
more careful to preserve my balance.

"The machine now rolled along with prodigious
rapidity, over the stones through the town, and every
moment we seemed to fly into the air; so that it was
almost a miracle that we still stuck to the coach, and
did not fall. We seemed to be thus on the wing, and to
fly, as often as we passed through a village, or went down
a hill.

^ These in the advertisements of the time were called "Bows
on the top,"

TWO FOREIGNERS ON COACHING 231

"At last the being continually in fear of my life
became insupportable, and as we were going up a hill,
and consequently proceeding rather slower than usual,
I crept from the top of the coach, and got snug into
the basket.

"'O, sir, sir, you will be shaken to death,' said the
black; but I flattered myself he exaggerated the un-
pleasantness of my post. As long as we went up hill,
it was easy and pleasant. And, having had little or no
sleep the night before, I was almost asleep among the
trunks and the packages; but how soon was the case
altered when we came to go down hill; then all the
trunks and parcels began, as it were, to dance around
me, and everything in the basket seemed to be alive,
and I every moment received from them such violent
blows that I thought my last hour was come. I now
found that what the black had told me was no ex-
aggeration; but my complaints were useless. I was
obliged to suffer this torture nearly an hour, till we
came to another hill again, when quite shaken to pieces
and sadly bruised, I again crept to the top of the coach,
and took possession of my former seat. 'Ah! did I not
tell you that you would be shaken to death?' said the
black, as I was getting up; but I made no reply. Indeed,
I was ashamed; and I now write this as a warning to all
strangers to stage-coaches who may happen to take it
into their heads, without being used to it, to take a
place on the outside of an English post-coach; and still
more, a place in the basket. . . .

"From Harborough to Leicester, I had a most
dreadful journey. It rained incessantly; and as before
we had been covered with dust, we now were soaked
with rain. My neighbour, the young man who sat next
to me in the middle, that my inconvenience might be
complete, every now and then fell asleep; and as, when

232 THE COACHING ERA

asleep, he perpetually bolted and rolled against me,
with the whole weight of his body, more than once he
was very near pushing me entirely off my seat."

When Moritz arrived at Northampton he went
straight to bed, and the next day resolved to con-
tinue his journey to London in some other stage-
coach.

"The journey from Northampton to London I can
again scarcely call a journey; but rather a perpetual
motion, or removal from one place to another, in a
close box; during your conveyance you may, perhaps,
if you are in luck, converse with two or three people
shut up with you. But I was not so fortunate; for my
three travelling companions were all farmers, who slept
so soundly, that even the hearty knocks of the head
with which they often saluted each other, did not
awaken them.

"Their faces, bloated and discoloured by their copious
use of ale and brandy, looked as they lay before me,
like so many lumps of dead flesh. When now and then
they woke, sheep, in which they all dealt, was the first
and last topic of their conversation. One of the three,
however, differed not a little from the other two; his
face was sallow and thin, his eyes quite sunk and hollow,
his long lank fingers hung quite loose, and as if detached
from his hands. He was, in short, the picSlure of avarice
and misanthropy. The former he certainly was; for at
every stage he refused to give the coachman the accus-
tomed perquisite, which everybody else paid, and every
farthing he was forced to part with, forced a P — d
d — m from his heart. As he sat in the coach, he seemed
anxious to shun the light; and so shut up every window
he could come at, except when now and then I opened

TWO FOREIGNERS ON COACHING 233

them, to take a slight view of the charm of the country-
through which we seemed to be flying rather than
driving.

"Our road lay through Newport — Pagnell, Dunstable,
St. Albans, Barnet, to Islington, or rather to London
itself. ... At Dunstable, if I do not mistake, we
breakfasted, and here, as is usual, everything was paid
for in common by all the passengers; as I did not know
this, I ordered coffee separately; however, when it came,
the three farmers also drank of it, and gave me some of
their tea. They asked me what part of the world I came
from; whereas in Germany we generally inquired, what
countryman a person is. When we had breakfasted, and
were again seated in the coach, all the farmers, the lean
one excepted, seemed quite alive again, and now began
a conversation on religion and on politics. One of them
brought the history of Samson on the carpet, which the
clergyman of the parish, he said, had lately explained,
I dare say, very satisfactorily; though the honest farmer
still had a great many doubts about the great gate which
Samson carried away, and about the foxes with the
fire-brands between their tails. In other respefts,
however, the man seemed not to be either uninformed
or sceptical.

"They now proceeded to relate to each other various
stories, chiefly out of the Bible; not merely as important
fadfs, but as interesting narratives, which they would
have told and listened to with equal satisfadfion had
they met them anywhere else. One of them had only
heard these stories from his minister in the church,
not being able to read them himself. . . .

"We now frequently took up fresh passengers, who
rode a short distance with us, and then got out again.
Among others was a woman from London, whose
business was the making of brandy. She entertained us

234 THE COACHING ERA

with a very circumstantial narrative of all the shocking
scenes during the late riot in that city. . . .

"At length we arrived at London without any accident,
in a hard rain, about one o'clock."

Moritz added that he looked "like a crazy creature"
after his journey, and was most earnestly thankful to
be at the end of it.

Washington Irving says:

"In the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I
rode for a long distance in one of the public coaches,
on the day preceding Christmas. The coach was
crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who,
by their talk, seemed principally bound to the mansions
of relations or friends, to eat the Christmas dinner.
It was loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets
and boxes of delicacies; and hares hung dangling their
long ears about the coachman's box, presents from
distant friends for the impending feast. I had three
fine, rosy-cheeked schoolboys for my fellow passengers,
inside, full of the buxom health and manly spirit
which I have observed in the children of this country.
They were returning home for the holidays in fine
glee, and promising themselves a world of enjoyment.
It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of
the little rogues, and the impracticable feats they
were to perform during their six weeks' emancipa-
tion from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and
pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the
meeting with the family and household, down to the
very cat and dog; and of the joy they were to give their
little sisters by the presents with which their pockets
were crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed

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TWO FOREIGNERS ON COACHING 235

to look forward with the greatest impatience was with
Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and according to
their talk, possessed of more virtues than any steed
since the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot! how
he could run! and then such leaps as he would take —
there was not a hedge in the whole country that he
could not clear.

"They were under the particular guardianship of
the coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity
presented, they addressed a host of questions, and pro-
nounced him one of the best fellows in the world.
Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary
air of bustle and importance of the coachman, who wore
his hat a little on one side, and had a large bunch of
Christmas greens stuck in the buttonhole of his coat.
He is always a personage full of mighty care and business,
but he is particularly so during this season, having so
many commissions to execute in consequence of the
great interchange of presents. And here, perhaps, it
may not be unacceptable to my untravelled readers
to have a sketch that may serve as a general repre-
sentation of this very numerous and important class
of functionaries, who have a dress, a manner, a language,
an air, peculiar to themselves, and prevalent throughout
the fraternity; so that, wherever an English stage-coach-
man may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for one of any
other craft or mystery.

"He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously
mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by
hard feeding into every vessel of the skin; he is swelled
into jolly dimensions by frequent potations of malt
liquors, and his bulk is still further increased by a multi-
plicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower,
the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-
brimmed, low-crowned hat; a huge roll of coloured

236 THE COACHING ERA

handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and
tucked in at the bosom; and has in summer time a large
bouquet of flowers in his buttonhole; the present, most
probably, of some enamoured country lass. His waist-
coat is commonly of some bright colour, striped, and
his smallclothes extend far below the knees, to meet
a pair of jockey-boots which reach about half-way up his

legs.

"All this costume is maintained with much precision;
he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials;
and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his
appearance, there is still discernible that neatness and
propriety of person which is almost inherent in an
Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and con-
sideration along the road; has frequent conferences
with the village housewives, who look upon him as a
man of great trust and dependence; and he seems to
have a good understanding with every bright-eyed
country lass. The moment he arrives where the horses
are to be changed, he throws down the reins with some-
thing of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the
ostler; his duty being merely to drive from one stage
to another. When off the box, his hands are thrust
into the pockets of his greatcoat, and he rolls about the
inn yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness.
Here he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng
of ostlers, stable-boys, shoeblacks, and those nameless
hangers-on that infest inns and taverns, and run errands,
and do all kinds of odd jobs, for the privilege of batten-
ing on the drippings of the kitchen and the leakage of
the taproom. These all look up to him as to an oracle;
treasure up his cant phrases; echo his opinions about
horses and other topics of jockey lore; and above all,
endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every raga-
muffin that has a coat to his back thrusts his hands in

TWO FOREIGNERS ON COACHING 237

the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an embryo
Coachey.

"Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasant serenity
that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw
cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the
journey. A stage-coach, however, carries animation
always with it, and puts the world in motion as it
whirls along. The horn, sounded at the entrance of a
village, produces a general bustle. Some hasten forth
to meet friends, some with bundles and bandboxes
to secure places, and in the hurry of the moment can
hardly take leave of the group that accompanies them.
In the meantime the coachman has a world of small
commissions to execute. Sometimes he delivers a hare
or pheasant; sometimes jerks a small parcel or newspaper
to the door of a public-house, and sometimes, with
knowing leer and words of sly import, hands to some
half-blushing, half-laughing housemaid an odd-shaped
billet-doux from some rustic admirer. As the coach
rattles through the village, every one runs to the window,
and you have glances on every side of fresh country
faces and blooming giggling girls. At the corners are
assembled juntos of village idlers and wise men, who
take their stations there for the important purpose
of seeing company pass; but the sagest knot is generally
at the blacksmith's, to whom the passing of the coach
is an event fruitful of much speculation. The smith,
with the horse's heel in his lap, pauses as the vehicle
whirls by; the cyclops round the anvil suspend their
ringing hammers, and suffer the iron to grow cool; and
the sooty speftre in brown paper cap, labouring at the
bellows, leans on the handle for a moment, and permits
the asthmatic engine to heave a long-drawn sigh, while
he glares through the murky smoke and sulphurous
gleams of the smithy.

238 THE COACHING ERA

"Perhaps the impending hoHday might have given
a more than usual animation to the country, for it
seemed to me as if everybody was in good spirits. Game,
poultry, and other luxuries of the table, were in brisk
circulation in the villages; the grocers', butchers', and
fruiterers' shops were thronged with customers. The
housewives were stirring briskly about, putting their
dwellings in order; and the glossy branches of holly,
with their bright berries, began to appear at the
windows. . . .

"I was roused from this fit of luxurious meditation
by a shout from my little travelling companions. They
had been looking out of the coach windows for the
last few m'les, recognizing every tree and cottage as
they approached home, and now there was a general
outburst of joy — 'There's John; and there's old Carlo!
and there's Bantam!' cried the happy little rogues,
clapping their hands.

"At the end of the lane there was an old sober-
looking servant in livery, waiting for them; he was
accompanied by a superannuated pointer, and by the
redoubtable Bantam, a little old rat of a pony, with a
shaggy mane and long rusty tail, who stood dozing
quietly by the roadside, little dreaming of the bustling
time that awaited him.

"I was pleased to see the fondness with which the
little fellows leaped upon the steady old footman, and
hugged the pointer, who wriggled his whole body for
joy. But Bantam was the great objeft of interest; all
wanted to mount at once, and it was with some diffi-
culty that John arranged that they should ride by turns,
and the eldest should ride first.

"Off they set at last; one on the pony, with the dog
bounding and barking before him, and the others
holding John's hands; both talking at once, and over-

TWO FOREIGNERS ON COACHING 239

powering him with questions about home, and with
school anecdotes. I looked after them with a feeling in
which I do not know whether pleasure or melancholy-
predominated; for I was reminded of those days when,
like them, I had neither known care nor sorrow, and a
holiday was the summit of earthly felicity. We stopped
a few minutes afterwards to water the horses, and on
resuming our route, a turn of the road brought us in
sight of a neat country seat. I could just distinguish
the forms of a lady and two young girls in the portico,
and I saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo and
old John, trooping along the carriage road. I leaned out
of the coach window in hopes of witnessing the happy
meeting, but a grove of trees shut it from my sight.

"In the evening we reached a village where I had
determined to pass the night. As we drove into the
great gateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of
a rousing kitchen fire beaming through a window. I
entered, and admired, for the hundredth time, that
pidlure of convenience, neatness and broad, honest
enjoyment, the kitchen of an English inn. It was of
spacious dimensions, hung round with copper and tin
vessels highly polished, and decorated here and there
with a Christmas green. Hams, tongues, and flitches
of bacon, were suspended from the ceiling; a smoke-
jack made its ceaseless clanking beside the fire-place,
and a clock ticked in one corner. A well-scoured deal
table extended along one side of the kitchen, with a cold
round of beef and other hearty viands upon it, over
which two foaming tankards of ale seemed mounting
guard. Travellers of inferior order were preparing to
attack this stout repast, while others sat smoking and
gossiping over their ale on two high-backed oaken
settles beside the fire. Trim housema ds were hurrying
backwards and forwards under the direction of a fresh

240 THE COACHING ERA

bustling landlady; but still seizing an occasional moment
to exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh
with the group round the fire. The scene completely
realized Poor Robin's idea of the comforts of mid-
winter:

"Now trees their leafy hats do bare
To reverence Winter's silver hair;
A handsome hostess, merry host,
A pot of ale now and a toast,
Tobacco and a good coal fire,
Are things this season doth require."

CHAPTER XVI THE COMING OF THE

RAILWAY

THE introdu6lion of steam as a means of
transport was an innovation that swept the
coaches right off the road and irretrievably
destroyed them. It was not merely a read-
justment of an existing system as the mail-coaches had
been, but the substitution of an entirely new order of
things which revolutionized travel, and cut, as it were,
a sharp dividing line between the leisurely day of
our forefathers and the modern hustling, hurrying age.
When it was first suggested that steam should be
utilized for draught purposes in place of horses, the
idea occasioned much merriment down the road. The
coachmen in particular regarded it as a huge joke: "The
tin kettle drive us off the road!" they would exclaim
with hearty guffaws of laughter at the very presumption
of the thing. "It can never come to pass," they declared
emphatically, "no country in the world has such
travelling as we have; what do we want with railways?"

With coaches running twelve miles an hour, what
more could men desire? "If that isn't fast enough for
them, let them get out and run," said the swell drags-
men with withering scorn. Whilst, "If your head never
aches till the railways come, you won't have much to
complain of," was a favourite retort to anyone who
thought "there might be something in it."

As a matter of fa6l, the railways came into existence

at a critical time, for with the introdudion of the penny
i6

242 THE COACHING ERA

post in 1840 the national correspondence increased so
enormously that the Post Office officials were at their
wits' end to know how to cope with it. The heaviest
nights were those when the American mails came in,
and on such occasions the bags often weighed as much
as 16 cwt. When this was the case, the capacity of the
mail-box proved hopelessly insufficient, so the mail-
bags had to be piled up on the roof, and fewer passengers
could be carried in consequence.

The contra6lors too, owing to increased competition
with the fast day coaches, evinced a growing disinclina-
tion to carry the mails. Instead of evincing anxiety for
the privilege because it exempted the coaches from
turnpike tolls, they demanded better contrails. The
Oxford and Cheltenham coach, which had previously
carried the mails free, put in a claim for ;^I50 in addition
to the turnpike dues, and this was paid by the Post
Office till the coach ceased to run.

When it dawned on the country that railways, so far
from being a mere fallacy, were about to become an
important institution, it was startled from its position
of smug superiority, and endeavoured ineffeftually to
drive the steam kettle from the land.

The railway question became the chief topic of
conversation, and the country was divided into two
fa6lions: for and against. The columns of contemporary
newspapers were the fields where the partisans of coach
and railway fought their battles, and said exceeding
bitter things of each other.

Whole towns with a blind disregard for futurity

THE COMING OF THE RAILWAY 243

rose up unanimous in determination to have no railroad
near them if they could help it. Eton was positive its
famous school would be ruined if the proposed Great
Western line came anywhere near it. The authorities of
Oxford even declared that if the proposed station was
erefted parents would cease to send their sons to the
University. Railways might be all very well for places
like Manchester or Liverpool, but "there was no trade
to Oxford to justify or require so rapid a communica-
tion," and that it was never supposed that people would
want to travel "like the wind from north to south,
from east to west." The Mayor in 1838 said "he con-
sidered it most unjust and cruel that year after year
the city should be taxed to oppose a bill so unjustifiable
and so uncalled for."

Despite opposition the G.W.R. crept on and in
April 1839 the newspapers reported:

The Opening of the Line to Reading

"The town of Reading, on Monday last, was much
enlivened from an early hour in the morning, in conse-
quence of the extension of the railroad to that place;
numbers flocked from the surrounding country, and
the town had the appearance of a grand holiday. Many
of the inhabitants availed themselves of a cheap and
expeditious ride to Twyf ord; some went as far as Maiden-
head and Slough; and a few aftually went by the first
train to London, and back again to breakfast before
10 o'clock. The station was thronged the whole of the
day by respedably dressed persons eager to view the
arrival and departure of the trains. The extreme beauty

244 THE COACHING ERA

of the first spring day — the splendid scenery the station
commands — the presence of hundreds of elegantly
dressed females rendered the whole proceedings of a
highly interesting nature."

So far back as 1791 Dr. Erasmus Darwin had pub-
lished a remarkable prophecy, foretelling not only
railways and motor-cars, but also aeroplanes.

"Soon shall thy arm unconquered steam afar
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car;
Or on wide, waving wings expanded bear
The flying chariot through the fields of air.
Fair crews triumphant, leaning from above,
Shall wave the flutt'ring kerchiefs as they move;
Or warrior bands alarm the gaping crowd,
And armies shrink beneath the shadowy cloud."

By 1836 the victory of steam over horse seemed
certain, and one writer was moved to prophesy what
changes would have taken place in so short a period as
seven years.

"Imagine the surprise of an Englishman coming to
London (from a tour in terra incognita) in the year
1843. By that time the adoption of the new plan will
be universal, and every description of wheeled carriage
will be propelled by steam. What an interesting change
will have taken place in the aspe6l and arrangements
of the metropolis! Fuel, not horses, being the medium of
impulse. The property of all public vehicles will natur-
ally have changed hands; the Golden Cross, the Bull and
Mouth, and the Cross Keys, will have ceased to exist!
and the stage-coaches will be found setting off probably

THE COMING OF THE RAILWAY 245

from the magazines of our leading coal merchants —
from The Old Barge House, Broken Wharf, Custom
House and the dark arch under the Adelphi. Then the
change in the detail of the road will be very whimsical
at first. Instead of calling as now, for fresh horses, at
a post town, we shall have only to call for a fresh scuttle
of coals! Our coachmen will flourish huge pokers,
instead of long whips. A very steep hill which would
require an extra pair of nags, will then be met with the
assistance of an extra pair of bellows, and as no thief
would touch a steam coach for fear of burning his
fingers, the guard to prevent accidents will carry a wet
mop rather than a pistol. There would be some diffi-
culty no doubt in the infancy of these arrangements,
the turnpike a6ls for instance would in most cases be
eluded; and the Post House duty, would be likely to
become unprodudfive. Impositions as well as improve-
ments would be likely to take place as the system
advanced. Any smoke which proceeded from the furnace
of the vehicle would (converted into gas) serve in time
to dire6l its progress. The heat of the fire might perhaps
be a little inconvenient in summer; but (to outside
passengers especially) in winter it would be an advantage.
And with resped: to the possibility of an occasional
blow up, there can be no doubt that as soon as the
scheme gets into praftice, any one of the insurance
companies for a reasonable premium will guarantee,
at so much per mile, the lives of steam passengers; and
such insurance might either be made a subjedl of separate
contract with the individual, or it might be done gener-
ally by the coach proprietor and included in the fare."

The writer in common with the rest of his generation
was obsessed with the idea that trains and all steam
propelled vehicles must inevitably be fashioned after

246 THE COACHING ERA

the pattern of horse carriages, no matter how greatly
the motive power might differ.

Looking back, it seems surprising that motor-cars
should have tarried so long after the railways, for, but
for an Act of Parliament, which raised the turnpike
dues for steam carriages to prohibitive heights, they
would probably have preceded railways.

So far back as 1800 inventors had turned their atten-
tion to the subjeft, and steam carriages of one kind or
another were put on the road from time to time.
Walter Handcock, who in 1836 had three steam omni-
buses running between Paddington and the city, had
a great idea of running a regular service to Brighton and
back. Even earlier, from February to June 1831 a
steam carriage ran four times a day between Cheltenham
and Gloucester. Colonel Maceroni advertised that he
would take passengers in his new invention out to
Harrow and give them a good dinner into the bargain.
His steam carriages went on an average of twenty miles
an hour, and for a time carried passengers between
Paddington and the Bank.

Sir Goldsworthy Gurney, who lost a fortune over
his attempts to perfed the new mode of transport,
once had the Duke of Wellington for a passenger, but
even such august patronage did not popularize the
new innovation. Steam carriages terrified the country
people, who, when they conveniently could, stoned the
inventor, and wrecked his machinery, being firmly
convinced that it was the innovation of his Satanic
Majesty himself.

THE COMING OF THE RAILWAY 247

A turnpike keeper seeing a steam carriage for the
first time, threw open his gates in dismay.

"How much toll?" asked the driver.

"There's nothing to pay, nothing at all, my dear
Mister Devil, I assure you, only please drive on as fast
as ever you can," quavered the terror-stricken gate-
keeper.

Steam carriages were liable to a good many accidents,
so that wits and poets waxed humorous at their expense:

"Instead of journeys, people now

May go upon a Gurney,
With steam to do the horses' work

By power of Attorney.

Tho' with a load it may explode,

And you may all be undone;
And find you're going up to Heaven,

Instead of up to London."

A correspondent of the Sporting Magazine for 1839
gravely discussed the pros and cons of railway travelling,
and delivered himself thus: "When once the novelty
has subsided we shall seldom hear of a gentleman con-
descending to travel to assume this hasty mode of
transit, compatible only with men of business and
merchantile travellers." One of the charges that he
urged against the railways was their unpundluality
as compared to the coaches, but what he regarded as a
bitter and insurmountable objeftion was the fa£l that
travellers by rail were unable to keep their luggage
under their dire6l supervision. When going by coach

248 THE COACHING ERA

they could see their luggage aftually put into the boot,
but such was the haughty arrogance of the railway
officials that on a railway journey travellers and their
luggage were separated in the most heartless manner.
"Let a person have an opportunity of keeping his
property in view," said the writer in all seriousness, and
was really of the opinion that, until such a contingency
was provided for, railways could never hope to succeed.

The opening of the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway
in 1838 occasioned many doubts as to the success of the
new venture, for, still struggling with the precedent
of the coaches, a procession of trains was arranged to
celebrate the occasion. All the engines belonging to the
company were called into use, and open trucks provided
with seats coupled to them for the accommodation
of the intrepid company who were prepared to risk
their lives on such an auspicious occasion. The start
was timed for eleven, but it was long past that hour
before a move was made, and eventually the procession
of trains accomplished their journey of sixty miles
in three hours and twenty minutes.

Colonel Peter Hawley, author of the sporting classic.
Instructions to Toung Sportsmen, has left an account of his
first railway journey, when, presumably because he
always travelled on the outside of a coach, he determined
to go on the top of a railway carriage, so that it is little
wonder that he found the experience rather terrifying.

"I was by my own choice, allowed to leave my seat and
to be perched on the summit of the mail carriage, where

THE COMING OF THE RAILWAY 249

I had to lower my head on entering the subterraneous
causeway. Fortunately I had a pair of speftacles, and
by shipping them I had such an awful view of the whole
concern as no other place could have afforded. But
had I not been provided with these, my eyes could never
have borne the intense current of air and the occasional
volley of black dust that flew from the engine. The
guard of the mail has a place on purpose with his back
to the train, and well sheltered by his letter box. I am
delighted at having sat where I did, now, thank God,
it is safe over, but they'll not catch me there again; it
was more awful to me than anything I have weathered
at sea."

On May 22nd, 1838, the Post Office announced a new
departure:

"The mails to Holyhead, Manchester, Liverpool, and
Carlisle, are to be despatched to-night for the first time
by the London and Birmingham Railway. The Coaches
are to be drawn by horses to the terminus at Euston
Square, and there to be placed on trucks and so run
on the railway, retaining their coachmen, guards,
passengers, etc., and only requiring horses when they
reach the end of the railway to proceed on to their
respeftive destinations. Despatching these four mails
by this conveyance will accelerate the arrival of letters
to a great part of England and Scotland by about two
hours."

During the early days of railways it did not seem
likely that trains would have much advantage over the
coaches in point of speed. In 1824 one of George
Stephenson's trains travelled at six miles an hour,

250 THE COACHING ERA

whilst a prize of five hundred pounds offered for the
best locomotive in 1829 was won by The Rocket, going
at fifteen miles an hour.

Even in 1838 it was possible to send messengers to
overtake a fugitive engine:

"The train left Maidenhead at the usual time with
the Thunder engine, when everything appeared per-
fectly safe, but about half-way between that place and
Slough the passengers were surprised at suddenly
finding the carriages not locomotive but stationary,
the engine having broken away and gone thundering
along by itself at a most rapid pace. Messengers were
immediately despatched after it, but, strange to say,
the engineer did not discover the loss of his train until
he had proceeded near four miles. The engine was then
turned back, and the train attached by means of ropes
(the fastenings having broken away); but between
Slough and West Drayton they also had burst asunder,
and the engineer on his arrival at the latter station,
found he had left the train he did not know where.
The engine was then again turned back, and the train
having been secured by stronger ropes, reached the
Paddington terminus about nine o'clock instead of
eight o'clock, its usual time of arriving."^

Accidents like this unnerved the public, and the
Sovereign coach between Worcester and London after
being withdrawn was put on the road again for a short
time "in consequence of the irregularity of the rail-
road conveyance, occasioning it frequently to be con-
siderably behind its usual time of arrival."

^ The Oxford Journal^ 1838.

5 V.

THE COMING OF THE RAILWAY 251

Notwithstanding the many disadvantages under
which the railway laboured at its commencement, it
had come to stay, and when the initial difficulty of
accurate time-keeping had been overcome, and passengers
reconciled to parting with their luggage, the popularity
of the new method of travelling increased rapidly.

Some coach proprietors realizing that steam would
inevitably displace the coaches, severed their connexion
with the road, and threw in their lot with the railways.
Others with stubborn determination waged unequal
warfare and were ruined. "Why are the shareholders
of a railway like bad aftors?" became a favourite
conundrum, the answer being, "Because they ruin the
stage proprietors."

As the network of railways increased, the coaches
were taken off the road. The crack ones went first,
those famous long distance coaches whose names had
become household words. Provincial coaches in out-
of-the-way distri6fs had longer life, some of them con-
tinuing to run till quite recent times.

The coachmen faced the world with their backs
against the wall and bitterness in their hearts. They
were men whose lives were bound up in their coach
and the interests of "the road." One old coachman
who had driven daily for eighteen years was at length
persuaded to take a holiday, which he celebrated by
travelling on the box-seat of the opposition coach.
Men who had tooled the crack coaches to their own and
every one else's admiration, declared they would never
condescend to drive anything but a four-in-hand.

252 THE COACHING ERA

They were first-class whips but there their accomplish-
ments ended, and they were unfit for any other calling.

It was the loss of prestige that embittered them; they
could not forget what important personages they had
been. They resented patronage, and repelled intimacy
with those who had been formerly subservient to them,
and were so ready to imagine an affront that even those
anxious to help them found it difl[icult to do so.

Coachmen who had saved money, or successfully
courted one of the landladies who had admired them in
the heyday of their existence, set up public-houses. A
few were provided for by wealthy patrons who had
learnt to tool a coach under their able tuition; some
obtained places in stables; others were forced to drive
buses for a livelihood. Some whose pride could not
brook their altered circumstances and the loss of every-
thing that made life worth living, committed suicide
rather than submit to the degradation which seemed
inevitable. The tragedy of their lives lay in the fa6l
that the railway shattered the coachmen's world,
leaving them isolated figures of an obsolete past that
never under any circumstances could be reconstru6led.

The guards fared better than their colleagues, for
they were the servants of the Post Office, and though
the scene of their operations shifted from coach to
railway, they quickly adapted themselves to the new
order of things. If anything they were a little too
zealous; one coach guard lost his life on becoming a
railway guard, owing to a fixed idea that during the
journey the third-class passengers would climb out of

THE COMING OF THE RAILWAY 253

their open trucks and get into the closed first-class
coaches. In order to verify this suspicion he crawled
along the train whilst it was in motion, but lost his
foothold and was killed.

The dwellers in country distri61:s mourned the passing
of the coaches with the bustle and excitement conse-
quent on their arrival, a loss which gave rise to the
parody on Goldsmith's " The Deserted Village ":

"No more is heard the mellow winding horn,

Waking the drowsy slumbers of the morn;

No spicy 'change' now waits for the down mail,

For woe is me! the Bristol's on the 'rail.'

No longer now is heard the busy din

In the full yard that marks the prosperous inn;

Unheard is now the watching ostler's call;

The only 'pair' is weary of the stall.

Silent the joke of 'boots,' ne'er known to fail;

The keeper's whistle and the post-boys tale.

No waiter now bestirs him for the nonce.

To answer fifty summonses at once;

E'en Bessy's self, so long the bar's fair boast.

The cookmaids' envy, and the bagman's toast.

Whose winning smile was so well known to fame

That for a ray each traveller duly came —

E'en she — so hopeless, Hounslow, is thy case —

Hath packed her traps and bolted from her place."

The Railways have expedited travel and brought
numerous improvements in their wake, but they have
shorn the country of a picturesque speftacle which for
so long had seemed an integral part of the national life.

THE END

INDEX

Aberdeen, 156.
Abingdon, Lord, 52.
Abingdon Machine, The, 113.
Accommodation, The, 91.
Adon, 96.
Adams, Jack, 45, 46.
Age, The, 95, 96, 97, 184.
Ainsworth, Harrison, 173.
Alder, John, 113.
Alert, The, 55, 90, in.
All Souls 'College, 20.
Alton, 17.
Anne, Queen, 4.
Antelope, The, 91.
Appleby, 197.
Argus, The, 92.
Ashe, Miss, 166.
Aston-under-Hill, 59.
Aurora, The, 200.
Axminster, 23.

Bagshot, 17, 88.

Bailey, Jack, 41.

Balloon, The, 29.

Bang up Song, 189, 190.

Barnshaw, John, 59.

Bath, 9, 23, 33, 34, 35, 54, 92, 198, 207.

Bayzand, John, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, in,

208, 209.
Bayzand, William, 55, 74, 75, 77, 78, 81.

82, 83, 84, 130, 159.
Beaufort Hunt, The, 90.
B.D.C. Song, The, 187-8.
Bedfont, 187, 188.
Benson, 1 87, 205.
Benson Driving Club, 186.
Benson Guard,'- 79, 80.
Bentham Mail, The, 198.
Berkeley Hunt, The, 90.
Berwick-on-Tweed, 206.
Birmingham, 129, 200, 249.
Birmingham Coaches,*46, 62,^73, 181, 200,

229.
Blenheim, The, 52, 96, 97.
Blewitt, Mr., 113.
Bobart, Tillimant, 60.
Bonner, William, 7.'-^
Borrow, George, 49, 50.

Boswell, James, 136-7.

Bowers, Will, 60, 61, 62, in.

Brackenbury, Richard, 184.

Brainford, 6.

Braintree, 169.

Brighton, 54, 98, 184, 199, 200, 246.

Bristol, 35, no, 156.

Bristol Mail, 29, 205.

Brougham, Lord, 214, 220, 221.

Browne, Lady, 167-8.

Buckingham, Duke of, 8.

Burford, Ned, 65, 66.

Burton, Dr., 4.

Bury St. Edmunds, 205-6.

Butler, Captain, 10.

Buxton, Charles, 188.

Byers, 54.

Cambridge, 205-6.

Cambridge Coach, The, 202.

Campbell, Lord, 38.

Carlisle, 214, 248, 249.

Carlyle, Mrs., 224-5.

Caroline, Queen, 152.

Castle, James, 97.

Chalk Hill, 205.

Champion, The, 77.

Chaplin, William, 104, 105, 106, 108

in.
Charles I, n, 16, 151, 178.
Charles II, 10, n, 14.
Charlton, Mrs., 130.
Cheltenham, 65, j-j, 82, 92, 242, 246.
Chesington, 152.
Chester Coach, 205.
Chesterfield, Lord, 188.
Chilton, III, 112.
Cicero, i.

Cirencester Mall, 173.
Civil War, The, 4, 11.
Cleaveland, John, 180.
Comet, The, 86, 87. 88, 89, 91.
Congleton, 103.
Constable, John, 128.
Costar, Mr., 62, 63, 64, loi, HI, II2,

Cotton, St. Vmcent, Sir, 183.
Coventry, 83.
Coventry Coach, 205.

255

256

INDEX

Cowper, William, 31.

Cressel, John, 17, 18, 19.

Crisp, Samuel, 152.

Criterion Coach, The, 184-5-6.

Cromwell, Oliver, 151, 163, 178, 179,

180, 181.
Cross, Thomas, 101-2.

Dart, The, 90, 199, 200.

Darwin, Erasmus, 244.

Defiance, The, 92.

Denmark, Prince George of, 4.

De Qumcey, 118, 119, 153.

Devonport Mail. See Quicksilver, The.

Dickens, Charles, 33, 120, 160.

Dorchester, 45, 46, 112.

Dover Coach, 102, 134.

Dunstable, 205, 233.

Du Vail, Claude, 173, 174.

Dye, Thomas, 20.

East Grlnstead, 98.

Eclipse, The, 92.

Economy without Monopoly, 92.

Edgeworth, Maria, 134.

Edinburgh, 23, 156, 207.

Edinburgh Mail, 38, 204.

Egerton-Warburton, R. E., Hon., 106.

Elizabeth, Queen, i, 6, 78, 151.

Eltham, 22.

Enstone, 62.

Epping Forest, 165.

Epsom, 25, 152, 189.

Eton, u8, 243.

Everett, Jack, 199.

Exeter, 23, 89.

Exeter Mall, 201, 205.

Express, The, 90.

Fagg, Thomas, 109, no, in.

Fane, Major, 95.

Fearless, The, 92.

Field, George, 128.

Finchley Common, 165.

Flying ChUders, The, 90.

Fossett, John, 20.

Foules, 75.

Four Horse Club, 189.

Gadshill, 165, 173.

Gay, John, 166.

George HI, 2, 9, 1 19.

Gerrard's Cross, 96, 97, 172.

Give and Take, The, 92.

Glasgow, 156.

Glasgow Mail, 196.

Gloucester, 77, 83, 94, ill, 155, 169, 246.

Gloucester Coaches, 24, 64, 181, 205.

Godalming, 5.

Good Intent, The, 91.

Grantham, 22.

Green, Verdant, 191-5.

Greyhound, The, 91.

Gurney, Goldsworthy, Sir, 246, 247.

Halifax Hope, The, 199.

Handcock, Walter, 246.

Hanwell, 198.

Hark Forward, The, 90.

Hatfield, 22.

Havvke, Martin, Hon., 184.

Havvley, Peter, Colonel, 248, 249.

HazHtt, William, 39.

Henley, 64.

Hereford, 75, 159.

Hertford, 89.

Hertford, Lady, 165.

Hervey, Lord, 6.

Hieaway, The, 90.

Hieover, The, 90.

Highflier, 90.

Highgate, 137, 138.

Highmettled Racer, The, 90.

Hind, James, 163.

Hockliff, 205.

Holyhead, 249.

Hood, Thomas, 46.

Home, Benjamin, 108.

Homer, Nicholas, 169.

Horsepath, 209.

Hounslow, 87, 165, 203, 253.

Howell, James, 52, 62, 200.

Hunt, Leigh, 50, 121, 128.

Huntingdon, 172.

Incledon, Mr., 221-4.

Irving, Washington, 227, 234-40.

INDEX

257

Isis, The, 65.
Islington, 79, 83, 233.

James II, 10, 151.

Johnson, S., Dr., 32, 136, 137, 147.

Kensington, 6.

Kew, 165.

Kitchiner, Dr., 139-50, 216.

Lamb, Charles, 225, 226.
Lavengro, 52.
Leamington Coach, 65.
Leeds Coach, 26, 204.
Leicester, 230, 231.
Lichfield, 204, 224.
Life Preserver, The, 91.
Lightning, The, go.
Lincobi, 155.

Live and Let Live, The, 92.
Liverpool, 86, 216, 243, 249.
Liverpool Mail, 102, 204, 205.
Long Compton, 46.
Longford, Lord, 134.
Lord Nelson, The, 91.
Lowestoft, 204.
Luckie, John, 219-21.

MacAdam, 38, 108.

Maclean, 165, 166.

Macready, William, 206, 207, 210.

Magnet, The, 92.

Maidenhead, 165, 243, 250.

Manchester, 24, 86, 109, 133, 156, 243,

249.
Manchester Defiance, 106.
Manchester Telegraph, 41, 109.
Mann, Horace, Sir, 165.
Margate, 133.
Marlborough, 198.
Matthews, Charles, 24, 122, 127, 189, 190,

215, 217-21, 223, 224.
Mazeppa, The, 74, 75, jj, 78, 81, 82, 84,

159.
Mendelssohn, Felix, 133.
Meteor, The, 90.
Mews, P., 20.

Mitford, Miss, 131-2.
Mohun, Lord, 175, 176.
Monmouth, Duke of, 9.
Montrose, Duchess of, 167.
Moritz, Charles, 227-34.
Mountain, Mrs., no.

Napoleon, 133, 153, 158.

Nelson, Mrs., no.

Nevison, 173.

Newbury, 59, 68, 76.

Newcastle-on-Tyne, 6, 156, 206 207,1248.

Newmarket, 204.

Nimrod, 29, 86, 200.

Nimrod, The, 97, 98.

Nobbs, Joseph James, 72.

North, Lord, 165.

Northampton, 205, 206, 232.

Northampton Coach, 230.

Northleach, 77.

Northumberland, Earl of, 9.

Norwich Coach (Illustrations), 170, 222.

" Old Lai," 98.

Onslow, Lord, 186.

Ormond, Lord, 215.

Ovet, Jack, 168.

Oxford, 19, 20, 54, 55, 63, 65, 95, 96, loi,

no, n2, n3, 129, 130, 155, 191, 192,

194, 209, 229, 243.
Oxford Balloon, The, 60.
Oxford Defiance, The, 183.
Oxford Stage-Coach, 23, 192.
Oxonian, The, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, ni, 208.

Palmer, John, 31, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 40, 69.

Parker, Edward, 21.

Paul Pry, The, 130.

Peerless, The, 92.

Pendennis, 191.

Pennant, Thomas, 8, 38, 70.

Pepys, Samuel, 10, n, 12, 23, 135, 136, 177.

Perth, 156.

Peterborough, 172.

Petersham, Caroline, Lady, 166.

Petworth, 4, 5.

Peyton, Henry, Sir, 97, 107, 188.

Phoemx, The, 199, 200.

258

INDEX

Pickmck, 33, 160, i6r.
Pitt, William, 34, 35.
Plunkett, 166.

Portsmouth, 59, 93, 155, 215.
Prince of Wales, The, 41, 91.
Princess Charlotte, The, 91.

Queen, The, 91.
Quicksilver, The, 89, 90.

Railway Coach, The, 91.

Rapid, The, 90.

Reading, 16, 113, 243, 244.

Red Rover, 106.

Regent, The, 91.

Regulator, The, 88, 89, 90, 207.

Reindeer, The, 91.

Reliance, 91.

Retaliator, The, 91.

Richmond, 229.

Richmond Driving Club, 188.

Rippon, Walter, 6.

Rising Sun, The, 59.

Rocket, The, 90.

Rockingham Coach, 197.

Roderick Random, 6.

Rodney, The, 91.

Ross, Si.

Routh, Dr., 176.

Rover, The, 90.

Royal Clarence, 91.

Royal Defiance, 45, 191.

Royal, William, The, 91, 95, 96, 97.

Royston, 204.

Rugby, 116, 118.

Rupert, Prince, 10.

St. Albans, 98, 233.
Salisbury, 23, no, 201.
Saxmundham, 79, 204.
Sheridan, Richard B., 210-13.
Sherman, Edward, 109.
Shipston, 46.
Shooter's Hiil, 177.
Shotover Hill, 23.
Shottenham, 159.
Shrewsbury, 77.
Shrewsburj', Earl of, 76.
lough, 243, 250.

Smith, Sydney, 213-15
Smollett, Tobias, 6.
Snowdon, WiUiam, 96.
Soulbrifere, Monsieur, 14.
Southampton, 17.
Sovereign, The, 250.
Speedhamland, 129.
Spitfire, The, 91.
Spooner, John, 62, 63, 64, 65.
Spread Eagle, The, 91, 104.
Stacey, John, iii.
Stacey, Will, 55, iii.
Stag, The, 17, 87.
Staines, 17, 87.
Stamford Fly, The, 172.
Star of Brunswick. 91.
Steam Horse Coach, 91.
Stephens, Joe, 67, 68.
Stephenson, George, 249.
Stevenson, Mr., 184.
Stroud Coach, 24.
Susse.x, 4, 5.
Sydney, Philip, Sir, 8.
Syntax, Dr., 141-2.

TagUoni, The, 184.

Tally-ho, The, 90.

Tantivy, The, 90, 106, 107, 129.

Tantivy Trot, The, 107, 108.

Taylor, Bill, 58.

Taylor, John, 12, 13, 16.

Telegraph, The, 90, 181.

Thackeray, W., 164, 191.

Thoresby, Ralph, 22.

Thrale, Mrs., 32.

Thurloe, Secretary, 178, 179.

ToUit, Joe, 96.

Tom Brozvn's School Days, 1 1 6-1 8

Trafalgar, The, 91, 153.

Turnham Green, 166.

Turpin, Dick, 134, 163, 173.

Union, The, 79.
Uxbridge, 96.

Vanity Fair, 190-1.
Villebois, Squire, j6, 188.
Vivid, The, 90.
Vixen, The, 91.

INDEX

259

Walpole, Horace, 5, 165, 166.

Walpole, Lady, 167.

Walton, 204.

Warburton, Peter, Sir, 103.

Warde, John, 41, 107, 181.

Ware, 127.

Warrington Coach, 27.

Waterloo, 153.

WeUer, Sam, 160, 161.

Wellington, Duke of, 91, 109, 133,

246.
Wesley, John, 28, 135.
Whitchurch, 57, 58.
Whitney, James, 175.
Whitway, 67.
Wicks, Ned, 175-6.
Williams, Bill, 182-3.
Wilson, Richard, 211, 212, 213.
Winchelsea, 164.

Winchester, 58, 155.

Windsor, 9, 184, 229.

Winterslow, 201.

Wisbech Coach, 203.

Witherington, James, 59.

Witney, 81.

Wolverhampton, 221.

Wonder, The, 97, 109.

Wood, Anthony, 172.

Woodstock, 46, 194.

Woolwich, 134.

Worcester Coaches, 168, 198, 205.

Worcester, Marquis of, 184, 185.

Wycombe, 96.

Yarmouth, 204.

York, 23, 25, 38, no, 155, 173, 213.

York Mail, 98.

Young, Arthur, 5.

BRITISH
SPORTING ARTISTS

FROM BARLOW TO HERRING

WALTER SHAW SPARROW

WITH A FOREWORD BY

SIR THEODORE COOK

AND TWENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
AND EIGHTY IN BLACK AND WHITE

Demy Quarto^ £2 2s. net

Also a Special Edition^ limited to Ninety-five Copies^
numbered and signed^ with two extra illustrations in
colour from original drawings by Henry Alken^ never
before reproduced, text printed on handmade paper

£5 5s. net

JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD LTD., VIGO ST., W. i

British Sporting Artists — continued

EXTRACT FROM THE INTRODUCTION
BY SIR THEODORE COOK

" It is with more than usual pleasure that
I commend to the English-speaking world the
very remarkable book in which these lines are
granted a place of honour ; for it accomplishes,
far better than I ever dreamt, a vision I had long
cherished, an ideal I have inevitably postponed,
and it will be warmly welcomed on each side of
the Atlantic. . . . The best of English open-air
life is portrayed by men who knew it well because
they shared in it. If we considered it only as a
record of two and a half centuries of England, it
would be invaluable. But as a collection of actual
examples, beautifully reproduced, it stands alone in
its contribution to our knowledge of a splendid
company of painters. Any previous verdicts on
Tillemans or Barlow (to take only two instances)
will be transfigured by Mr. Shaw Sparrow's
industry and taste. I have not merely admired his
selection of pictures, I have read his text, and it is
with full responsibility that I can recommend both
to his readers. I only hope they may leave me
some small share of their gratitude."

JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD LTD., VIGO ST., W. i

British Sporting Artists — continued

The following is a list of Artists represented in the book,
some of the more important by several plates : —

COLOUR

Henry Alken.
Francis Barlow.
H. B. Chalon.
Abraham Cooper, R.A.
Gill.

J. F. Herring, Sen.
VV. P. Hodges.
Samuel Howitt.
Ben Marshall.
George Morland.
Philip Reinagle, R.A.

BLACK AN

H. Alken.

F. Barlow.

William Bakraud.

J. E. Fernelev.

George Garrard, A. R.A.

Gainsborough.

Gilpin and Reinagle.

Sawrey Gilpin, R.A.

J. F. Herring.

Edwin Landseer and John

Phillip.
J. Highmore.
Abraham Hondius.
J. C. Ibbetson.
Ben Marshall.

PLATES

Thomas Rowlandson.
James Seymour.
Loraine Smith.
George Stubbs.
George Stubbs and his

Son.
Peter Tilleimans.
D. Wolstenholme, Jun.
John Wootton.
H. K. Browne (" Phiz ").

D WHITE
W. Mason.
George Morland.
J. N. Sartorius.
James Seymour.
William Shayer.
George Stubbs.
Peter Tillemans.
James Ward, R.A.
Francis Wheatley, R.A.
D. Wolstenholme the

Elder.
John Wootton.
Wootton and Tillemans

Period
John Wyck.

JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD LTD., VIGO ST., W.i

QUEEN ELIZABETH'S
MAIDS OF HONOUR

And Ladies of the Privy Chamber
By VIOLET A. WILSON

Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, I2S. 6d. net

Sunday Times. — "This handsome and well-illustrated volume
performs even better than its title promises. It not only gives
full and entertaining biographies of various members of that
extremely interesting group, Elizabeth's Maids of Honour, but a
good deal of biographical and historical matter that is not closely
germane to the ladies in question."

Westminster Gazette.— '■'■ Miss Wilson draws an interesting
picture full of gaiety and intrigue."

Daily Telegraph.—''' Her narrative is based upon wide re-
search, and many of her stories, especially those of the Ladies
Catherine and Mary Grey are full of genuine pathos."

Pall Mall Gasette.— "Th& book is really a very interesting
picture of life in those far-off times wherein human nature, at
least, differed not a whit from our own."

Daily Mail.— " A. lively and amusing account of the bevy of
fair women attached to Elizabeth and incidently of her Court and
manner. . . . One of the great finds of the book is its account
of what must have been the first game of lawn tennis ever played
on one of the lawns of Elvetham, Hants."

JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HE.A.D LTD., VIGO ST., W. i

Veterinary lib'-^'^'
Tufts Unh..

School of Vv;-v.. . ..- ^,

200 Westboro Rd.

North Grafton. MA O'^'^'^S

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